


Wake Me Up

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, M/M, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is new in Harry’s high school and Harry is not, under any circumstances, falling in love with him and his family life is perfectly fine, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr: keepshippingbullshitt

Harry throws his sack that’s hung over his shoulder into his locker, smiling at his best friend, Niall, who’s rambling about the party he went to on Saturday night.  Harry wasn’t invited, which is a bit disheartening but not unexpected because he isn’t friends with the guy who threw it.  Niall’s always been more social than Harry, as Harry’s pretty shy.  Different than the kind of shy that Zayn is.  Zayn is painfully shy if you don’t know him, but then once you befriend him, he opens up.  Harry is friendly with pretty much everyone, but is still rather quiet even with his closest friends.  But since both of them were a bit timid, they naturally gravitated towards each other.  
  
It’s about fifteen minutes before school starts and the hallways are pretty crowded. Harry scans the hall with his eyes, looking for Zayn or Liam.  He feels a pair of soft lips press against his cheek, and he turns to see his sweet girlfriend, Madelyn, beaming up at him.  She’s cute with light blonde hair and wide blue eyes.  Madelyn is the definition of feminine.  With her tiny, petite frame, and her high-but-not-annoyingly-so voice, there’s nothing boyish about the girl.  She writes in sparkly pens and takes ballet classes.  She’s pretty and funny and sweet and caring and is completely head over heals for Harry.  
  
Madelyn’s more than what Harry could have dreamed his girlfriend would be like.  
  
“Hey, Harry” She greets him.  Her hands are behind her back and she’s swinging back and forth like a little girl.  
“Madelyn…” Harry says in surprise, “I thought you were sick.”  That’s what she told him when she cancelled on him on Saturday night.  
“I was.  But I’m better now.  It was one of those eight hour virus things.” Madelyn explains.  Harry nods, understanding.  Madelyn politely says hello to Niall, and he replies politely back.  And then they make polite conversation.  Because even Madelyn can’t stand Niall, she’s always polite.  (And God knows why she can’t stand Niall, she refuses to explain it.) Eleanor, Madelyn’s best friend (they’re practically attached at the hip), bounces up beside her, too peppy for this early in the morning. Her brown curls are held back by a preppy black headband that matches her short black pencil skirt which perfectly contrasts with her white blouse, which Madelyn seems to be eying longfully.  
“Hi guys” She says happily.  
“How do you have this much energy this early?” Madelyn asks.  
Eleanor ignores the comment and takes a sip of her starbucks while Madelyn pulls at her pale pink cardigan.  She’s wearing dark blue jeans, a white, ruffly tee-shirt, a pink sweater (as it isthe middle of October and it’s getting cold) and light pink ballet flats to match.  It’s unbearably cute.  
  
There’s an uncomfortable silence since Eleanor is here, not that Harry or Niall have anything against her- in fact, it’s the opposite.  Harry and Eleanor are relatively good friends, but Niall has been futilely attempting to woo her, making Eleanor horribly uncomfortable as she’s completely uninterested.  
“I heard there’s a new student coming today.” Madelyn offers, trying to stir some conversation.  
Harry’s ears perk up - this is the most riveting piece of information he’s heard in a few weeks.  After the first month of two of school, everything settles in, people get together, friendships form, and life is generally boring.  Boring is better than dramatic, but it’s still boring.  
“Yeah, I heard about that too.  It’s a boy, but that’s all I know.” Eleanor says.  But soon the conversation changes as there’s only so much information they have to exchange on the topic and Harry zones out when Eleanor begins talking a sale at some shop because, frankly, he doesn’t care.  A couple minutes later, the bell rings, and Harry has to go to maths without so much as even a glance at this new kid.  Or Zayn, who he’s been looking for all morning.  Harry took his seat near the door, and next to the only empty desk in the room.  
  
But, however, about five minutes in, the door creaks open and a boy who Harry didn’t recognize stepps in hesitantly.  The teacher simply stares at him, and the boy opens his mouth, as if to speak, but no words come out.  He closes his mouth and plops down in the nearest seat - the one next to Harry.  
  
Normally, Harry would say something, but he’s bad in this class so, in order for him to get anything above a C, he needs to pay close attention to the material.  He doesn’t even get a good look at the boy.  But for some reason, he really wants to.  He’s already drawn to the boy who he’s never even seen.  He can feel his presence and… it’s a nice presence.  
  
And that’s the only class he has with him in the morning, but he sees him again at lunch.  He’s sitting with Zayn, Liam, Niall, Madelyn,  Zayn’s girlfriend, Perrie, and Liam’s girlfriend, Danielle when Eleanor comes bouncing over, leading the new boy along by the wrist.  Madelyn leans her head on Perrie’s shoulder, a soft “Aww…” escaping her lips as she looks at her best friend with this boy, who Harry will admit, is attractive.  He has piercing blue eyes, tan skin, and side-swept, feathered hair.  Eleanor sets her food, which she’s been artfully balancing with one hand, on the table and takes a seat.  
“Hi guys” She smiles and then gestures towards the new boy, “This is Louis.”   
Louis smiles, but doesn’t say anything.  He sits down next to Eleanor, in the only seat available.  Coincidentally, it’s next to Harry.  
Eleanor continues speaking, “These guys are like, my best friends.” Then she points to everyone as she introduces them and Louis’ eyes follows, “Perrie, Zayn, Niall, Liam, Danielle, Madelyn, and Harry”  
“Hey…” Louis mutters shyly.  
“Hey” Everyone chorused.  Soon the conversation starts up, and they continue into some inane discussion, which Louis, if you must know, does not partake in.  Neither does Eleanor, really.  She seems to be chatting incessantly to Louis, who nods along and occasionally interjects a comment or two.  They seem to be lost in a different world, where only those two exist, because it’s almost impossible to get their attention.  
“Eleanor… Eleanor!” Madelyn shakes her arm until the girl stops talking to Louis.  
“Yeah?” She sounds annoyed.  
“We’re all going to see a movie on Friday.  Do you wanna come with us?” Madelyn invites.  
“Oh, yeah.” She looks at Madelyn in a weird way, obviously communicating with her in that silent way that girls speak, and Madelyn nods.  Then Eleanor looks to Louis, “Do you wanna come too?”  
Louis nods, “Sure.”  
  
—  
During Eleanor’s class after lunch, she’s happily sitting next to Louis in the back of the classroom, who seems grateful to have been taken under her wing.  What can he say?  The girl is pretty, sweet, a little too excitable and perky, but over-all a good girl.  He’s fairly interested in her as a potential girlfriend.  He’s most definetly attracted to her, but he doesn’t know too much about her.  Besides, Louis is only in high school, and he isn’t quite sure if he’s looking for a relationship.   But he wouldn’t protest if Eleanor wanted to be with him. Certainly not.  
  
The class starts up and Eleanor begins taking notes, but soon enough, she’s bored beyond belief.  She looks over to Louis, whose eyes are glazing over, and wonders what she can do to win the new boy’s heart.  She sighs, needing more information.  Quickly, she scribbles out a single sentence in her bubbly writing: Do you play any sports?  She tears off the paper and inconspicuously passes it to Louis.  Eleanor watches as Louis’ eyes trail over her the words on the paper.  Louis writes a reply quickly and passes it back, not nearly as discreetly as Eleanor did.  He receives a warning glance from the teacher, but nothing more.  
Football.  
Well then, Eleanor thinks, a tad offended, One word answers.  However, she can’t dwell too much on the short response; they are in class, after all.  Anyway, football!  Football is absolutely fantastic.  There is a wonderful football team at this school with Harry and Zayn and Liam.  Eleanor excitedly smiles back at Louis, knowing exactly how he’s going to enter her group of friends and rise to the top of the social ladder.  
  
Once the bell rings, Eleanor hops up and bounces next to Louis, telling him all about the winning football team.  Louis nods, but brings up an important point.  
“Didn’t they already have try-outs, though?”  
Oh yeah.  Eleanor racks her brain, trying to figure out a solution.  She doesn’t know much about the dynamic of the football team, but from what she’s heard from Harry, the coach loves him. He’s the team favorite.  So if anyone can convince Coach Smith to let Louis on the team, it’s Harry.  
Harry refuses to do Eleanor any favors (probably because she asks for them about twenty times a day, but Eleanor refuses to acknowledge that), so she goes to Madelyn instead.  Whipping out her phone, she texts Madelyn, her fingers flying across the tiny keyboard.  
“Madelyn’s gonna ask Harry to talk to the coach for you, kay?  We’ll get all this sorted out.  Don’t worry about it.” Eleanor explains, delighting while she watches Louis’ face light up.  
“Thank you” He smiles widely.  
Eleanor waves him off, “It’s not big deal.  I have a test next period, so I gotta go, but text me, yeah?”  And before Louis can answer, Eleanor is kissing him on the cheek and running off.  
  
—  
Madelyn catches Harry coming out of his last class of the day, while he’s chatting endlessly to one of his friends, Cher, who Madelyn doesn’t know too well.  She calls out Harry’s name and his eyes flicker towards the source of the sound.  He smiles at her and weaves through the crowded hallway after saying a quick goodbye to Cher.  
“What’s up?” Harry asks.  
“I was wondering if you could do me a favor.  It’s nothing big.” Madelyn explains.  
“Sure,” Harry agrees, “What do you need?”  
“Okay, well actually it’s not for me.  It’s for Eleanor.” Madelyn admits, and Harry sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.  Madelyn brushes off the gesture and continues, “Well, for Louis, really.” Harry suddenly becomes more interested and inclined to complete the task for a reason unbeknownst to him and Madelyn.  “So apparently he plays football, and Eleanor thought he should join the team. And of course he wants to, Eleanor talked it up like you guys were as the best team in the world.  But since tryouts already happened, and it’s his senior year so he really should play a sport, do you think you could talk to the coach about considering to let Louis on the team?”  
Harry sighs, unsure whether he can convince the coach to let Louis play.  “I’ll try, but I can’t promise you anything.”  
Madelyn rolls her eyes dramatically, placing her hands on her hips, her dainty fingers drumming.  
“Yeah you can, can’t you? You’ve always said the coach loves you.”  
Yeah, Harry’s always said that.  Doesn’t mean it’s true.  The coach doesn’t hate Harry, well, kind of, but he doesn’t love him.  Harry’s the only one in his year on the team.  He’s the youngest, by about a year.  And it’s not that he’s worse than anyone else on the team, he’s completely up to par. But still, Coach always treats Harry like absolute shit.  He yells at him more than the others, and lectures him, and plays him a good amount but less than he deserves.  So, Harry might not be the best person to convince the coach to let Louis play.  
“I mean, I guess.  But… okay.  I’ll try.” Harry agrees.  
Madelyn smiles widely, “Thank you so so much Harry.”  
“No problem” Lie.  “I gotta go to football practice now.” Not a lie.  
  
—  
After an hour long football practice, which Harry performed fairly well in, the boys on the team go into the locker room to get showered and changed, while Harry walks over to the coach.  
“Coach?” Harry asks, nervous and a bit shy.  
The Coach looks up from his clipboard, “What, Styles?”  
Harry runs his fingers through his curls anxiously, “There’s this new kid, Louis, and he plays football.  And he’s really good so I think we’d do better as a team with him and he asked me to talk to you about looking at him to see if he could play.”  
“Tryouts are over.” The coach states blandly.  
“I know, but this is his first day, so he wasn’t here for tryouts-”  
“Nobody can join after tryouts.”  
“But he’s really good!”  Which is, once again, a total lie.  Harry has no idea how good this new kid is.  
“Listen, kid, the answer is no. Now go get changed.” The coach doesn’t even look up, and Harry can tell that the answer is final.  He rocks back on his heals, muttering “asshole” under his breath.  Unfortunately, the coach hears.  
“What was that?” He asks.  
“Nothing.” Harry shakes his head.  
“Detention friday.”  
“But we have a game on friday!”  
“Well then you’ll stay for an hour after the game.”  
  
Great.  
Is that even allowed?  
Harry sighs and walks into the changing room, quickly showering.  Once he gets out, he sees Liam sitting on a bench, waiting for him.  
“Hey.  Your mom picking us up like usual?” Liam asks.  Harry glances on his iPhone, seeing a new message from his mom.  
On a business trip.  Be back friday.  
“Uh, no.  She’s on a business trip.  Guess we’re walking.” Harry looks down.  This is not his day.  Liam nods, understanding.  
  
They walk home silently, their houses next door.  Harry arrives at his house first, and Liam offers “Do you wanna hang out at my house today?” to which Harry declines because he feels like moping around.  Once Harry gets inside his tiny, crappy house, his cat, Dusty, which he and his mom can barely afford to feed anymore, meows, whining.  Harry just shakes his head, looking for food, but he finds nothing that isn’t spoiled.  He makes his way to his bedroom, which is about the size of a normal person’s closet.  It has a twin bed in the corner, a dresser on the side, and a few bean bags.  Harry plops down on a bean bag and begins his homework, but his cat begins to whine again.  He kicks it Dusty violently, and it scampers out of his room, hissing.  
Harry used to love that cat, but now it’s just annoying as fuck.  
  
Once he finishes his homework, his stomach is growling and there’s no food.  So Harry walks about ten feet to Liam’s house.  He doesn’t bother knocking on the door, and when Liam’s mother sees him, she greets him with a bright smile.  
“Hi Harry!”  
“Hi…” Harry mutters, “There’s no food in my house.”  
“Come in then, dinner’s almost ready.”   
  
And that’s Harry’s monday.  He can’t tell if he likes it or he hates it.  Because honestly, it should really suck.  But for some reason, this new boy is giving Harry some optimism.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is new in Harry’s high school and Harry is not, under any circumstances, falling in love with him and his family life is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

“Not to worry, I’ll deal with it myself.” Eleanor says, overly sweet, before casting a quick glare in Harry’s direction.  Harry sighs but he supposes the reaction to his revealing that the quest to get Louis a tryout was a complete failure, could have been worse.  Eleanor could have yelled.  Louis could have been pissed.  But neither of those two scenarios happened, so Harry breaths in relief.  
“Oh, and I got detention friday.  After the game.  So I can’t go to the movies.  Fuck my life.” Harry grumbles, and Louis looks down guiltily, knowing it’s his fault.  And for some reason, Harry hates that Louis feels bad about this.  Because the last thing he wants is for Louis to feel bad.  And it honestly makes no sense because they’ve had about one conversation, and have known eachother for about a day.  
The discussion continues, and Harry doesn’t participate much in it because he’s too busy scarfing down his food.  He’s starving, and Madelyn notices.  
“Someone’s hungry” She observes playfully.  Harry looks up at her smiling face, feeling the need to explain himself.  
“My mum’s out of town, and there’s no food in the house.” Harry says, his words slightly muffled by halfway chewed food.  He didn’t know he could fit so much in his mouth.  
Madelyn half smiles, a bit incredulous at Harry “So why don’t you just buy food?”  
Harry almost sighs.  Almost.  
“She didn’t leave me any money.”  
Madelyn furrows her eyebrows, and says, feigning seriousness “That’s neglect.”  
That’s not buying what you can’t afford.   
But Harry doesn’t say that.  Instead he smirks and shakes his curls out of his eyes, pretending to find the joke funny.  Madelyn is still watching him, eyes full of worry.  She places her dainty hand over Harry’s thigh and squeezes gently.  Harry puts down his sandwich and looks at her, attention drawn.  
“Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight then?  If there’s no food in your house.  And we can hang out in my room a little bit first…” Her voice fades as her hand trails towards Harry’s groin, and she looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes as if she isn’t getting him unbearably hard right now.  
Harry nods, not trusting his voice.  She presses down a little, but it doesn’t ease the tension, just enough to tease.  She leans forward and whispers in his ear, hot breath blowing against his face.  
“And I’ll take care of that.”  
Her cool voice sends shivers down Harry’s spine, and he can barely think straight.  This is not, in any way shape or form, okay.  His bulge is growing and he can’t deal with this right now.  Harry clears his mind, thinks of something absolutely disgusting, and the sensation fades.  
Much better.  
But he’ll still need something tonight.  
  
—  
“Get over here, Styles.” Eleanor’s shrill voice pierces Harry’s ears as he walks down the hallway.  It absolutely sucks that Harry and Eleanor have the same free period.  Harry sighs, and makes his way over to the brunnette.  He looks down at her wide eyes that would usually be considered beautiful but right now are filled with contempt so… yeah.  
“Yeah?” Harry replies, forcing a charming smile on his face.  He knows how to get out of trouble.  Smile, flash his dimples, widen his green eyes slightly, and everyone is swept of their feet, either finding him incredibly sexy or cooing over how cute he is.  But apparently, this trick doesn’t work on Eleanor.  
“You had one job Harry.  All you had to do was get Louis on the football team so he could have a decent senior year.  Seriously, moving his senior year, how bad does that suck?  So I thought, hey, maybe he’ll at least be able to play the sport he likes.  But you couldn’t do that!  So now I have to pull some strings and do it myself!” Eleanor spits, eyes furious.  
Harry moves a lone curl out of his eyes and says simply “It’s not like I didn’t try.”  
“Well obviously you didn’t try hard enough!” Eleanor yells, and almost disturbs the classrooms.  Harry doesn’t respond, unsure what to say.  
“You’re absolutely useless!” Eleanor says, breathless, and struts away from him.  Harry rolls his eyes.  
He’s thought he’s useless before. But now he knows he’s not.  There are plenty of things Harry is good at, and there are plenty of people who love him.  Just because one person who meant alot to him at one point in his childhood doesn’t love him…  
He’s not useless.  Not in the slightest.  
  
—  
  
“Harry” Someone calls.  Oh my god.  How many people need something from me today?  
Harry whips around, and sees something he doesn’t expect.  It’s feathered hair, and baby blue eyes.  Suddenly, the rush of irritation fades and he feels oddly calm.  
“Oh, hey Louis.” Harry smiles crookedly, one dimple cratering in his cheek.  Louis breaths in a little shakily at the sight of it, and then reminds himself of why he’s there.  
“I wanted to thank you for talking to the coach for me.  I know that it didn’t work out, and I’m sorry you got detention over it.” Louis says sincerely.  Harry felt a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that can only be described as butterflies.  
Butterflies.  
Boys don’t give Harry butterflies.  No.  Madelyn gives Harry butterflies, when she says something sweet or when they first met.  Other girls have given Harry butterflies. That’s what happens when you have a crush, so butterflies are completely normal.  But butterflies are not to be fluttering around in Harry’s stomach whilst Louis is talking to him, because those types of butterflies are not allowed.  
But Harry likes the butterflies, and he likes Louis.  
“No, I mean, it’s no problem.” Harry brushes off the thanks.  Louis just flips his hair out of his eyes (which causes Harry’s stomach to clench even more out of nerves and something else) and smiles.  Harry loves that smile.  So that’s when he decides that he’s going to make Louis smile more often.  
  
—  
Harry is looking through his closet frantically, trying to find something suitable to wear to go to Madelyn’s house for dinner.  This is far more stressful than it should be, especially since this is not the first time he’s met Madelyn’s parents.  However, he always feels as if they are judging him, for some unknown reason.  Harry finally settles on some skinny jeans and a red collared shirt, and plops down on his bed for a couple minutes, relaxing.  
  
Harry’s life is weird, because some aspects of it are absolutely perfect, and some are the exact opposite.  There’s no happy medium.  He has a pretty girlfriend, he’s fairly popular, he’s smart, gets good grades, is pretty good at football.  But his family life is far from ideal.  Harry’s dad left when he was about seven, and took the majority of their money with him.  This left him with a sense of abandonment, and very little financial stability.  It also forced him and his mother to live in this house, which is constantly threatened to be taken away from them.  
Harry’s mum works at some shop, but she’s constantly travelling, looking for jobs.  So that’s her “business trip” this week.  So she’s never really home.  And his sister, Gemma, left when her and Harry’s dad did.  
So one part of his life is perfect, and the other is absolutely horrendous and terrifying.  But he has no idea where his new friend, Louis falls on the spectrum of that.  Harry likes the way Louis makes him feel, but it also scares him, because nobody’s ever really made Harry feel like that before.  
  
Harry checks his phone, looks at the time (six thirty, if you’re interested), and decides it’s time to start walking to Madelyn’s.  
Fuck, he needs a car.  
  
Once he arrives at Madelyn’s house, a good forty-five minutes later, Madelyn takes him by the hand and leads him up to her bedroom.  He sits down on the bed and she straddles his hips, sitting on her knees.   She kisses him, but lets him lead and take dominance.  
  
It escalates.  Harry nudges his groin against her hips, pressing lightly.  It’s a small, subtly reminder of what she promised him early today.  It’s a silent message saying: I can’t wait any longer.  
And Madelyn understands.  
So she stands up, and pulls Harry to the edge of the bed.  Madelyn takes her dainty, polished fingers and begins undoing the zipper on his jeans, and yes, yes, yes.  Soon enough, she’s down on her knees, looking up at him with big blue eyes and-  
Has Harry ever expressed how much he loves that shade of blue?  Cerulean.  Crystal clear.  Madelyn’s remind Harry of Louis’ eyes in a way… But Harry should not be thinking about Louis when his length is hard and erect.  Not when Madelyn’s down there, pulling his pants off, committing.  
Soon enough, her lips are wrapped around him, tongue swirling around his cock.  Harry looks down at her lovingly, and can’t help but think that maybe she’d look better with caramel feathered hair and a little bit of stubble.  
  
What?  
Harry takes in a deep breath and groans in frustration, suddenly placid in Madelyn’s mouth, without even cumming.  Madelyn leans back and wipes her lips, worried.  
“Did I do something wrong?” She asks, lip trembling.  
Fuck, this is what Harry gets for dating a girl who believes every word that’s thrown at her and lets her insecurities overwhelm her.  
Harry shakes his head quickly, curls bouncing.  “No, no,” He assures her, “You did nothing wrong.  You were amazing.  As always.  I’m just really… stressed out right now.”  
Madelyn tucks a stray blonde hair behind her ear, eyes full of concern and an irrational need to explain herself.  
“Yeah, that’s why I did this.   I thought you looked like you needed release.  I was just trying to be a good girlfriend, I didn’t mean to make things worse.” Madelyn says apologetically.  Oh my god, stop apologizing!  
“No, love, it’s not your fault.  I just starting thinking about things during it and… I’m sorry.  I guess I’m having performance issues.” Harry has to hold back a smirk at the last sentence.  Performance issues.  
There are three loud knocks at the door, and Harry scrambles to pull up his pants and straighten out his shirt.  Madelyn evens out her skinny jeans and pulls her sweater up so it’s not as low cut.  She looks at Harry, who nods, and then she scurries to door and pulls it open, innocently batting her eyelashes.  
“Dinner ready?” She asks, her hands behind her back.  Harry can see her playing with her fingers, a nervous habit.  
“It’ll be in five minutes.” Madelyn’s mum, Leandra says.  And then she turns and leaves.  
  
And that’s that.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is new in Harry's high school, and Harry is not, under any circumstances, falling in love and his family life is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

I should ink my skin with your name.  
  
The next monday, Harry, dripping with sweat, dribbles the ball skillfully between his feet.  He looks around his teammate - who, for the sake of practise, is not actually his teammate right now - for an opening.  He shifts his weight onto his right foot and kicks the ball inside, sending it to Zayn, who scored the winning goal for his “team.”  
  
The sun is beginning to set, orange in the sky, and Harry can tell that winter is approaching: the days are getting shorter and, despite the sweat he’s breaking, colder.  Harry looks around at the other boys practising on the field and notices a new one.  
Louis.  
Yes, Louis made the team.  Don’t ask Harry how Eleanor managed to get him a try out, because he honestly has no idea.  Normally, Harry would be a bit indignant and resentful if a new kid was randomly put on the team.  Frankly, it’s unfair.  But it’s also Louis, and Louis is…  
  
Whatever.  
Harry has been thinking far too much about the older boy anyway.  
  
The coach blows his whistle, signalling that the practise is over.  Harry jogs back to the end of the field, into the loose circle that the footballers have  created with their bodies.  The coach gives them a monotonous lecture about how they need to work harder even though they haven’t lost a single game this season.  Harry allows his eyes to wander, and they lock with Louis’.  Louis gives him a cheeky grin and makes a rude but unnoticed gesture towards to coach, to which Harry responds with a dramatic eye-roll.  The coach makes the same speech every day, Louis might as well get used to it.  The coach, red-faced and heaving, finally finishes his palaver and dismisses the worn-out boys from the tiring football practise..  He gives Harry a quick pat on the back, mumbling a reluctant but necessary, because Harry really does deserve it, “Good job today.”  God forbid he actually appreciate the effort Harry puts into football.  
  
Back in the locker room, Harry’s finding it increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts off Louis, especially when he’s stripping directly in front of him.  Harry hastily turns away uncomfortably.  He’s never been uncomfortable in the locker room before and it’s making him nervous.  Harry rushes through his shower and leaves the locker room as quickly as he can, beginning his long journey home without Liam, which will piss him off slightly, but at the moment Harry really doesn’t care because OH MY GOD Louis was changing in front of him.  As Harry’s walking home, a car stops beside him and rolls down the window.  
  
Of course it has to be Louis.  
  
“Need a ride?” He offers kindly (and of course he just has to be nice, doesn’t he?), flashing a toothy grin and Harry’s stomach clenches painfully.  Fuck, as much as Harry would love to spend time with Louis, he really can’t.  At least not until he can control his reactions to him.  
“No thanks.” Harry declines politely smiling weakly. Louis squints, looking at him skeptically.  Harry begins to silently panic, afraid that Louis can see through his facade and can tell the way Harry’s thinking about him, when in reality, even Harry doesn’t know how he’s thinking of Louis.  
  
But he does know he’s thinking of Louis too much than is healthy.  And if Louis were to find that out, he’d be scared. Harry is already scared.  
  
“Suit yourself, then, I guess.” Louis shrugs nonchalantly, which makes sense because this is a casual situation.  Offering a ride.  Nothing special.  But to Harry, it feels like something more and he wishes it wouldn’t.  “But, hey, you should come over tomorrow” Louis suggests, “I’ve pretty much hung out with everyone except you.”  
  
So Louis only wants to hang out with Harry because he’s hung out with everyone else first?  So Harry is the same as everyone else, to Louis?  
  
Wait, Harry berates himself for the melodrama, of course he’s the same as everyone else.  He and Louis have had what, one, maybe two, conversations?  
  
But, Louis wants Harry at his house.  His house.  Alone in a room together.  
  
Oh no.  
Oh no oh no oh no oh no.  Louis is not inviting Harry over.  No!  Harry can’t decide if he wants to be with the blue-eyed boy or completely avoid him in order to control the way he feels around him.  
  
Harry decides that the latter would probably be healthier but there’s something addicting about Louis.  
  
“Sure, yeah.  I’ll come over then.”Harry responds rather awkwardly, but Louis doesn’t seem to notice.  His face lights up, and God, Harry’s made him happy.  Harry’s insides are filled with an ominous bliss that he doesn’t quite understand but he likes it.  But being rewarded with a strange elation for delighting a boy he barely knows is most certainly not normal.  
  
—  
Twenty four hours later, Louis is sitting contently next to a quiet Harry as they both work on their math homework.  Louis is quite pleased with himself, he managed to coax Harry into coming over.  (Even if their math teacher did decide to assign them an unreasonable load of homework that they had to start working on immediately if they want to finish it on time) Actually it wasn’t as much coaxing as it was him barely offering and Harry jumping on the chance to hang out.  However, Louis is painfully aware of the silent tension hanging between them, and feels the need to break it.  
  
Louis clears his throat “So can we talk about how I’m in Geometry 1 and I’m a senior…?” Louis smiles as it his joke, a stab at his own stupidity, but Harry doesn’t look up.  
  
“Why did you move two months into your senior year anyway?” Harry asks, probably not intending it to be rude, but Louis’ jaw tightens anyway.  Louis’ words are slow and careful, lacking emotion yet intimidating.  
“What do you mean by that?”  
  
Harry looks up at him, green eyes shining in… is that fear?  But his voice is steady and follows all of his usual speech patterns.  
  
“It’s just a bit weird is all.” Harry explains.  He sounds unfazed, but looks terrified.  Louis feels a bit guilty, he’s scaring the younger boy with his body language.  Louis attempts humor and teasing, trying to ease the teenager sitting across from him.  
  
“You’re a bit weird.” Louis grins.  
“A bit.” Harry allows.  
  
They return to their homework for a couple of minutes, and the silence has shifted from tense to a more comfortable one.  But Louis still feels as though he needs to answer Harry.  The question is hanging in air thickly.  
  
“If you’re really interested, I moved ‘cause my parents just divorced and my mom wanted a change.” It seems like a confession, like Harry will judge him for it, which makes no sense.  
“Sucks” Harry mumbles, seemingly unsympathetic.  
That’s a bit rude.  
Is it rude?  It’s certainly not what Louis’ used it.  He’s used to “Oh, I’m sorry hun.” or “It must be hard.” or just an uncomfortable “Oh.”  but not this.  Harry’s just gone on with his business like nothing’s changed.  It may actually be the ideal reaction.  
  
But Louis’ accustomed to something different, so he’s a tad bit affronted.  But he plays it  off like it’s no big deal, like his parents’ divorce had no effect on him and he’s not dealing with his sisters (who are too young to understand) asking “Why do we only get to see Daddy every other weekend?” and “Why doesn’t daddy love mummy anymore?” or the worst - “Did Daddy just not want to live with us anymore?”  
  
But Louis acts like it’s no big deal.  
  
“I’m really more pissed about moving than the divorce though, to tell you the truth.” It’s not the truth, though.  
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Harry says, but it doesn’t sound like he really understands.  
“I mean, I kind of saw it coming.” Louis explains.  He did see it coming.  Louis may sometimes act about twelve, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an eighteen year old boy with enough sense to tell when two people are falling out of love.  
“I didn’t  really see it coming for my parents.” Harry says quietly.  
“You’re parents are divorced?”  
“I guess.”  
I guess?  What does that even mean?  They either are or they aren’t.  Louis opens his mouth to ask a question, but then sees that Harry has turned his attention back to his schoolwork, and he realizes that maybe Harry wouldn’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t pry.    
  
The quiet is deafening, tension almost visible in the air.  Within ten minutes, Harry stands up and puts his books in his bag, mumbling an excuse to leave, “But text me, yeah?”  
  
But Louis doesn’t have his phone number.  
  
So Harry takes out his pen, and writes in sloppy, charming handwriting: Harry and seven digits.  
  
I should ink my skin with your name.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is new in Harry's high school. Harry is not, under any circumstances, falling in love and his family life is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

Neither of them know how it happened, but over the next few weeks, Harry and Louis start hanging after football practise almost everyday. And it’s a bit of an issue, because Liam might be lonely walking home alone and Madelyn might have been jealous when Harry told her that he already had plans for friday night, even though he really didn’t, but he was sure he would. He told Madelyn this on wednesday, and now it’s thursday, and he realizes what he said was a lie.  
  
“I know we don’t have practise tomorrow, but I’ll still come over, yeah?” Harry says, sprawled out on Louis’ sofa, munching on a biscuit, deciding he’ll be there the next day, like it’s his own house. Even though they’ve only known eachother for a little while, Harry’s already considered an honorary member of the Tomlinson family. He takes care of Louis’ sisters like they’re his own, helps Jay cook dinner, and sleeps there on occasion. Louis never asks about Harry’s family, but Jay did once. She mentioned having Harry’s family over for dinner one night, but Harry politely declined the offer, stiffening slightly. The invite was only brought up in passing, but it still felt vexatious and caused a tense silence throughout the dinner table. The Louis shot her a quick glance, and Jay got the message: don’t ask about Harry’s family.  
  
But, back to reality. Harry isn’t actually a part of the Tomlinson family, and as much as he’d like to live in a nice house with a nice mum and a nice dad and a nice amount of money, as much as he’d like to live a nice life, he can’t. Back to reality. Harry’s a guest, inviting himself over.  
  
“Actually, I have plans. Sorry, Hazza.” Louis replies through a mouthful of food. Everyone calls Harry “Hazza” or “Haz”, but for some reason, it’s different when Louis says it. It’s soft and makes Harry’s stomach explode into a million butterflies. But even the affectionate pet name can’t cheer Harry up here.  
  
Louis seems to notice Harry’s disappointment and quickly says, “Don’t be sad. It’s just one night. Besides, you have other friends.”  
  
Harry nods; Louis’ point is valid. Harry has been blowing off his old friends for Louis, and they might not be too happy about that. Liam is like Harry’s big brother, always taking care of him. Zayn loves all of his friends, quietly, but fiercely, and he’s probably not about to let one be stolen away. And Niall… well, he’s Niall. You really can’t go too long without hanging out with him.  
  
“We’ll hang out saturday, like first thing in the morning, promise. Call me as soon as you wake up.” Louis assures, squeezing Harry’s thigh, in a way that really can’t be passed off as anything but platonic.  
  
“What are your plans?” Harry wonders, fairly curious. It’s strange, his fascination with Louis. He always wants to know what Louis is doing, or where he is.  
  
Louis smiles, “Eleanor asked me to go on a date with her, isn’t that great? Like, just me and her. We’ve gone out with others before, and we’ve hooked up, but never an actual date.”  
“Hooked up as in…?”  
“Made out. God, Harry, why are you even worried about that?” Louis scoffs, and Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Louis cuts him off. “I’m really excited. Eleanor’s a great girl. She’s beautiful, honestly. And she’s sweet and funny and… I really like her. I hope it works out.”  
  
Louis’ voice has no inflection, because every word is said with such enthusiasm that everything sounds just as important. Sweet sounds just as important as funny and beautiful sounds as important as great and girl sounds as important as Eleanor.  
  
It’s horrible to hear. What’s even more horrible is that Harry doesn’t understand why he feels like this when he thinks of Louis being with someone else. Like he’s been punched in the stomach, and the wind’s been knocked out of him.  
  
“Yeah, that’s great.” Harry chokes out. Everything’s great. Eleanor’s great and their date will be great and their relationship will be great. Harry knows he’ll never be ever to measure up to Eleanor, but maybe, what he and Louis have is even more than great. Maybe it’s magnificent, and mesmerizing, and euphoric, and perfect. And maybe when Harry’s around Louis, he feels light-hearted, and elated, and intoxicated from his presence. Maybe Louis feels the same way.  
  
But then again, Louis’ going on a date with Eleanor, not Harry.  
So then again, maybe not.  
  
—  
  
If Louis’ going on a date, then so is Harry. He asks Madelyn if she’d like to go out to dinner on friday, despite the fact that he really can’t afford it. Harry needs to take his mind of Louis, and Madelyn is the perfect way to do that. He may be infatuated with Louis, but he’s still in love with Madelyn, that that takes precedence.  
  
So here they are, at a diner, ordering milk shakes and giggling, talking about useless things. There’s a jukebox, filled with songs from decades ago, and Madelyn keeps inserting coins and requesting the silliest songs. Harry steals her food and she takes a sip out of his milkshake and they hold hands across the table. By the end of the date, they decide that sitting across from each other is too far and Madelyn moves over to his side. Harry wraps his arm around her, and she kisses his lips chastely.  
  
And it’s all nice, except it’s not.  
  
Because eating away at the back of Harry’s mind is Louis, and his date with Eleanor.  
  
Harry takes Madelyn to a golf course that’s about half a mile past the diner, sits down in the middle of a grassy hill, and has his way with her, half-heartedly thrusting into her.  
  
When he’s having sex, when he’s mid-orgasm, it’s impossible to think about anything at all, including Louis.  
—  
  
Louis picks up Eleanor from her enormous house at seven, and they arrive at the restaurant at seven thirty. Louis thinks about Harry at seven forty, and Eleanor leaves to use the bathroom at seven forty five. She returns at seven fifty five and Louis wonders at seven fifty six what she could possible doing in there.  
  
Louis loses track of time around eight thirty.  
  
Eleanor is lovely, as usual. They point to different people in the restaurant and make up their life stories, they complain about stupid things, and Eleanor’s funny, she really is. It’s just that the way she’s funny is a bit mundane and not as provoking as Harry. She’s silly, and teases gently, but she’s not cheeky or mischievous, and she certainly isn’t dirty the way Harry is. But Louis has a good time with her, and she’s one of those people who can carry on a decent conversation and keep you interested in what they’re saying. The date goes by quickly, and soon enough Louis is paying the bill and taking Eleanor by the hand.  
  
“This was fun.” Eleanor says, smiling widely, big brown eyes boring into his own.  
“It was fun?”  
“Yes.” Eleanor says certainly, despite that she’s not quite sure what Louis is getting at.  
“We can still have more fun.” Louis suggests, pushing his fringe out of his eyes.  
This excites Eleanor, and she bounces up at the prospect.  
“You think?” She asks, tugging at her blouse. Louis nods.  
  
Neither really want the night to end. And it’s friday, and they have the entire weekend to recover from a bad hangover.  
  
Louis drives Eleanor to a bar, and they’re not carded. It wouldn’t be a problem for Louis, as he’s eighteen, but Eleanor isn’t of age for a couple of months. They buy a couple of drinks, take a couple of shots, and then they’re completely wasted and horny.  
  
Louis takes Eleanor to his car and they have sex. He thinks of Harry.  
  
He’s too drunk to remember that who he was thinking of in the morning.  
  
—  
  
When Harry wakes up, his first thought is Louis, and his words: “Call me when you wake up.” But Harry doesn’t quite want to call Louis, doesn’t want to wake him up, doesn’t want to hear about his date with Eleanor. Harry can be a bit emotionally masochistic, constantly wanting to know the things that he knows will hurt him, but this heartbreak is going to be too much for him to handle. He meanders to the kitchen, where his mum is stirring sugar into her tea. She looks up at him, smiling at her only son.  
“Hi, love. Want some breakfast?” She offers, her voice so kind and polite that it’s cool and blatantly false. Harry rubs his eyes and plops down at the table, and he hears little creaks and squeaks. These chairs don’t have much more in them; they’re crappy and have been around for years.  
“Do we even have any food?” Harry dead-pans. He swears that if it weren’t for Liam, he would starve. He told his mum this theory once and she slapped him, telling him that she’s working very hard to put food on the table and if he’s not appreciative then he can get the hell out.  
Anne opens up the refrigerator, and it’s completely empty, except for some rancid milk.  
“No. Listen, Harry. I know you’re busy with school and football, and I’m proud of you for that, I really am. You’re doing great, and I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but I really think you’re going to have to start contributing.” Anne says.  
“Contributing?” Harry asks, not quite understanding.  
“Get a part time job. I know you’re already busy, but it would really help. We’re behind on our mortgage, and in serious debt to the bank.” Anne explains.  
Harry sighs, standing up, “Mum… I’m really not sure if I can…”  
“It’s necessary. Get a job.” Anne demands, and then waltzes out of the room.  
  
Perhaps “waltze” isn’t the right word, and he’s just being overdramatic. Perhaps Louis is just rubbing off on him.  
  
Harry really has no idea how he’s going to handle this. He walks slowly over to the kitchen counter, looking at the bills. The dept they’re in is terrifying, and there are threats of his home being foreclosed. His house was foreclosed once, as a kid. They stayed with a friend, who was rich. Harry doesn’t know who he’ll stay with this time. Nobody can know about his living situation, it’s embarrassing frankly.  
  
Releasing a shaky breath, he dials Louis’ number. There’s ringing, and a groggy Louis answers.  
“‘ello?” Louis greets, his voice muffled.  
“Hey.” Harry breaths, feeling himself break. He hears sheets ruffling, a giggle, and a “El, stop.” That’s when Harry has the horrible realization: Louis is with Eleanor. She spent the night. They had sex.  
  
Harry’s insecurities well up inside him. Eleanor’s beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, everything he’s not. He will never be enough for Louis, he will never be good enough. And Harry has come to terms with that, kind of. But he still doesn’t need it rubbed in his face.  
  
A sob shakes through Harry’s body.  
“Harry? Are you okay?” Louis asks, voice panic-filled.  
“I’m fine” Harry replies, though his voice holds no conviction. He hates the way the lie tastes on his lips, even though he’s used to lies. He’s just not used to lying to Louis.  
Louis, ever trusting, believes him.  
  
“Can this wait? I’m a bit busy at the moment.” Louis’ voice isn’t soft anymore, just annoyed. It’s harsh, and Harry’s never heard him speak like that.  
“You said we could hang out today” Harry reminds quietly, unsure if this is the right thing to say.  
“It’s nine thirty in the bloody morning, Harry, and I’m hungover as fuck. So if you could please shut the fuck up, because I really couldn’t care less about what you want to say to me right now.” Louis spits. Harry, with trembling fingers, ends the call an walks back to his bedroom, with an empty stomach and wobbly legs. He collapses onto the bed, and allows himself to wallow in his misery.  
  
Not good enough. Never good enough. It’s weird, actually. How much Harry lets things get to him. Stupid, insignificant words touch Harry in every way possible. He tries to perfect, and he’s pretty fucking close. When Harry goes to Zayn’s house, he’s heard his parents say things like “Why can’t Zayn be more like that boy? He’s so lovely” and Niall’s parents say that he’s a “good influence” because Niall’s grades have gone up since they became friends. Harry wouldn’t quite consider himself a good influence - he parties and drinks and has sex in public places - but he’s nice, and he’s smart, and he knows how to win people over. Harry does everything he can. He gets good grades, plays on the football team, is polite to adults. That’s when he realizes that he had no idea why he tried to be perfect, not before Louis came along. Now Harry tries to be perfect for Louis but Louis chose Eleanor.  
  
  
And if Louis couldn’t care less about Harry, then the feelings are mutual.  
  
Harry couldn’t couldn’t care less about Harry either.

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is new in Harry's high school. Harry is not, under any circumstances, falling in love and his family life is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

After another two hours of sleep, Louis wakes up and promptly tells Eleanor that she needs to leave now and it’s an anomaly that his youngest sisters haven’t barged into his room and see her.  Eleanor kisses him on the lips sweetly, thanking him for a lovely night, and asks if he’s interested in going on another date, to which he replies affirmatively.  Even hungover and with bags under her eyes, Eleanor’s pretty.  She’s agile, even though she’s the farthest thing from athletic, and maneuvers herself out of Louis’ window and promptly begins walking home.  
  
Ugh.  
  
Louis feels like absolute shit.  He was woken up too early, by Harry and -  
  
Harry.  Fuck.  
  
You can’t be a dick to Harry, you just can’t.  It’s fine to snap at anyone else, but not Harry.  He’s quite sensitive, and a bit insecure, and he trusted Louis.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
Louis whips out his cell phone and dials Harry’s number, but Harry doesn’t pick up.  Louis doesn’t blame him, he told him to call him first thing in the morning, and then told him that he didn’t care about what he had to say.  
  
Louis would go over to Harry’s house to apologize, but Harry’s never allowed him at his house.  Every time Louis asked, Harry paled and shook his head, and Louis never pried.  But now, he wishes he did.  
  
He called up Liam, who, always kind, answers on the first ring.  
“Yeah?” Liam greeted, sounding awake and alert.  Louis’ jealous.  
“Hey, have you seen Harry?  He isn’t answering my calls.” Louis’ talking too fast, like he does when he’s anxious.  
“Um, no.  If you really want to see him, just go to his house.  He usually stays in on sundays unless we have a game.” Liam replies easily, probably having gone to Harry’s house multiple times in the past.  Louis is, once again, jealous.  
  
“I’ve never been to his house.” Louis admits, and it feels like it’s something to be ashamed of.  It feels like he’s saying, Hey, Harry actually doesn’t like me.  
“Oh, yeah, he usually doesn’t let people in his house.  Okay, meet me at the bakery.   need breakfast and then I’ll take you to his house.” Liam suggests, and Lous agrees.   He pops two advils but doesn’’t bother getting dressed.  He shooes off my younger sisters and his concerned mother, and he drives to the bakery that sells the best muffins he’s ever eaten.  
  
“Hey.” Liam smiles at Louis, taking neat bites of a scone.  Louis force a grin, because he’s never felt worse in his entire life, but Liam’s the sweetest person in the world and is just trying to help even though he doesn’t even know what’s going on.  Louis orders a muffin and a coffee, because let’s face it, tea isn’t going to cut it today.  He sits down with Liam, who looks up at him expectantly.  
  
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Liam asks, doe-eyed.  Louis shakes his defiantly. “You know,” Liam remarks, “Talking about can really help sometimes.”  
Louis sighs in defeat, “I just… I promised Harry we’d hang out today.  And I told him to call me as soon as he wakes up, so he did, but I was - am - hungover, and tired, and Eleanor was there, and I snapped at him and… now he’s not answering his phone.  And he seemed upset when he called me and… ugh” Louis whines, putting his face in his hands.  
Liam takes a breath, thinking.  He considers the situation, and then, carefully, explains “Talking to him will definetly be the best option.  He’s gonna push you away, but if he’s upset, then you should really be with him.”  
  
Louis nods, soaking up the advice.  The two boys finish their breakfast, and before they head out, Louis buys a croissant for Harry.  Liam gives Louis directions to Harry’s house, and he feels like he’s doing something wrong - invading Harry’s privacy.  If Harry doesn’t want Louis at his house, then Louis shouldn’t be going to his house.  But it’s too late to turn back now.  
  
They arrive at Harry’s house, and it’s tiny, and it looks like it’s falling apart, and his neighbor is scary and has a pitbull, and Louis feels a pang of sympathy for the curly haired boy that deserves so much better than this.  
  
Liam leads Louis into the house, not even knocking.  Louis walks through the kitchen, and there are papers left on the counter.  A few incredibly high bills, and one threat to forclose the house.  The house looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in forever, mold building up in the sink drain.  There’s an emaciated cat that whines for food.  Louis continues following Liam to a door.  Liam breathes, and then pushes the door open, not knocking.  
  
Harry is curled up in fetal position on a twin sized bed, his front to us, but his hair is covering his face.  He’s shaking and there are small whimpers escaping his lips, and oh god, what did Louis do?  
  
“Hey, Haz.” Liam says, his voice even.  Harry just groans, and Liam goes and sits down in front of Harry’s stomach, stroking his hair.  Harry lets out a pained whine sound, moving his hand to grip Liam’s hand like a lifeline.  
“Louis’ here.” Liam states. Harry’s head snaps up and he looks at Louis, and Louis can see puffy, red-rimmed eyes and his hair in a disheveled mess.  Harry sits up, looking at Liam with betrayal.  
“You brought him here?” Harry hisses, incredulous.  Oh, yes, coming here was a bad idea.  
“He just -” Liam starts, but Harry cuts him off.  
“Nobody except you comes to my house!” Harry’s almost yelling now.  
  
Louis walks forward towards Harry hesitantly, his hands out in front of him, reaching.  Harry doesn’t make a move to protest.  Louis sits down next to him and wraps Harry in a hug, and Harry just completely breaks down sobbing hysterically in his arms.  Liam schooches away, giving the pair their space, but still keeps a steady hand on the small of his back.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m a twat.  I was hungover, and tired, and I know that’s no excuse for snapping at you.  But I know there’s more to this than that, yeah?  I know you were upset when you called.  So you do wanna tell me what happened?” Louis inquiries.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry sniffs, hiccuping as he sits up out of Louis’ arms and prepares to talk, “So, I just… The date with Madelyn was weird.  It wasn’t her, my mind was just… somewhere else.  So I ended up fucking her on a golf course because I needed to think about her you know? But seriously, a fucking gold coarse.  What does that even say about me?  Then I take her home and come back here and go to bed.  So I woke up and went to the kitchen, and my mom was like, ‘Do you want breakfast?’ and I asked her if we had any food and she said no because we never have any food.  And then my mom tells me I have to get a job, but I don’t have time to get a job, and I’m fucking seventeen years old!  I shouldn’t have to worry about this shit!  So then my mom left and I looked at the counter and there are these threats that my house is gonna be foreclosed and I don’t know what we’d do if it was and everyone would find out that this is what my house looks like, and this is how I live, and it would be so embarrassing.” Harry explains.  
  
Louis doesn’t even know what to say to the broken boy in front of him, and that’s just what he is.  A boy - a boy who was forced to grow up too early, who has to worry about making sure he eats and has a place to live and not what university he’ll get into, who has to deal with the threat of homelessness looming over his head, who’s so ashamed of his life, and his family, when he’s done nothing wrong or nothing to deserve this life.  
  
“Oh, Hazza.  It’ll be okay.” Louis promises, but can he make that promise?  He can’t be sure it will all be okay for Harry, because there’s the possibility that Harry’s home will be foreclosed.  But Louis can promise himself that Harry will never be homeless.  If the house is foreclosed, Harry’s a member of Louis’ family anyway, and he would gladly take him in.  
  
“I just… I don’t know.  I guess I need a job then.” Harry wipes a tear from below his eyes.  
  
“What about the bakery down the street?” Liam suggests, smiling.  
Harry shakes his head, “I don’t want to have to look at all that food and not be able to eat any of it.  I was thinking the record store.”  
Liam guffaws, ruffling Harry’s hair, “Nobody buys records anymore.”  
Harry turns his gaze downcast, his line of sight homing on his lap.  
“Hey,” Louis says, unable to watch the younger boy bare anymore disappointment, “I’ll buy all the records in the world if it means I can help you.”  
  
—  
  
“I’m giving you a ride to work today” Louis comes up behind Harry, wrapping his arms around him from behind.  Harry takes another book out of his locker, sighing.  He just finished up football practise, and it is already five thirty.  He has work starting at six and ending at nine, and then he has to study for a test the following day and do the rest of his homework.  
  
Harry has never been more stressed.  
  
“You don’t have to do -”  
“Yes I do.” Louis interrupts, taking a step back and running a hand through Harry’s soft curls.  Harry turns around and leans against his locker, looking Louis in the eyes with defeat.  
  
“I don’t want to do this, Lou.  I can’t do this.  I have too much going on as is.  I’m already doing all the chores at my house so it’s not a fucking health hazard, and I’m in a bunch of honors classes because I need to get into a good university so I don’t end up like my mum, and I have football.  I can’t do this, it’s too much.” Harry feels his eyes stinging with tears, because he’s never been more frustrated with his life.  
  
Louis puts a hand to Harry’s cheek, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, “I know it’s a lot.  But you’ll be okay.  You’re gonna come out of this, and go to an amazing university, and I swear to god Harry, you’re going to live the life you want.”  
  
Harry nods, half-believing.  He allows Louis to lead him to the car, feeling vulnerable and out of control.  Louis turns on the radio, and Harry scoffs at the top 40 shit before plugging in his i-Pod.  Promises, Promises by Incubus plays, and Harry sings along while Louis sits silently, having never heard the song before.  
  
“I’m on the road of least resistance.  I’d rather give up than give into this.  Just promise me only one thing, would you? Just don’t ever make me promises” Harry sings, looking out the window.  Once the song has finished, Louis looks at Harry, grinning wildly.  
  
“You have a really good voice!” Louis exclaims happily.  He’s possibly made friends with the best person on earth - Harry’s smart, and adorable, cheeky, funny, sweet, and he can sing.  If Louis thought there was no such thing as perfection, well, Harry’s certainly changed that.  
  
Harry rolls his eyes, watching as Louis pulls into the parking lot.  He steps out of the car and Louis calls out “sell those records!”  
  
Harry walks into the store, having met with the owner the day prior.  He knows what he’s supposed to do - organize the records if they’re in the wrong place, help any customers, and unpack the records from the boxes.  He’s supposed to close the store at nine, clean everything up (meaning vacuum, wipe down the counter, pick up any records that have fallen on the ground), and finish unpacking any records that he didn’t get finished.  So, he’ll basically be staying until at least nine thirty, and then walking home.  
  
So Harry starts up.  
  
It’s slow, he gives it that.  Apart from one or two people stopping by, Harry isn’t fairly bored.  When it’s about eight fifty nine, five people walk in, two boys and three girls.  They’re giggling and Harry’s frankly a bit pissed, because he wants to close up, but he can’t.  
  
“Hey, can I help you with anything?” Harry asks, feigning passiveness and nonchalance.  The group turns to face him, there is one girl with bright orange hair, another brunette, and a blonde.  The boy has a quiff and looks a while older than Harry, and then there’s another boy who’s not nearly as striking as the rest of them.  
  
“Um, yeah” The quiff-boy says, leaning over on a counter, “Do you have anything that sounds like the kooks?”  
“Yeah.  Have you tried the fratellis?” Harry suggests, and Nick shakes his head. “Well,” he continues, “Vocally, they’re really similar.  And they kinda give off that same, I don’t know, feel to it.  Like, vibe, I guess.”  
“Oh my god, I love bands with that vibe!” One girl says, and Harry smiles, beginning to lead them to the back of the store.  
“Okay, so this is one of their songs.  It’s called whistle for the choir.” Harry says, beginning to play it.  The group smiles in approval, and decides to buy the album.  After they purchase the album, most of the group begins drifting out.  
“Hey, kid,” Quiff-boy says, “What’s your name?”  
“Harry.”  
“Do you have a ride home?” He asks.  
“No, but that’s fine.  I still have to close up and clean up and stuff, so yeah.  It’ll be a little while.” Harry declines the offer, taking out records from the last box.  Quiff boy shakes his head.  
“I’m Nick, by the way.  But um, listen, I don’t mind waiting up, and neither do my friends.  It’s bloody pouring outside and I don’t want you walking home in this weather, okay?”  
Harry hesitates, stuttering, “But I don’t understand why you’re willing to-”  
“Listen.  You’re a nice kid, Harry.  So I’m giving a ride home because I don’t want you to get sick or have some random guy murder you.  I’d rather have you alive than dead.” Nick explains, and then calls his friends back inside.  They promptly introduce themselves - the blonde is Jude, the brunnette is Iris, the red head is Florence. The two boys, one blonde and one  brunnette, are Elliot and Holden respectively.  
  
Harry finishes up his job, and it’s about nine thirty.  They all step outside, and it’s pouring rain and there’s lightning and loud claps of thunder.  Harry’s suddenly no longer hesitant to accept the offer of a ride and is immediately grateful.  The group piles into a car, allowing Harry to sit in the passengar seat.  They play the fratellis record and sing along, and Harry joins in quietly, still a little bit nervous.  
  
“Um, turn here” Harry directs, just now realizing that he’s letting people see his house, and his neighborhood.  
  
“This is where you live?” Nick asks, and Harry nods quietly, looking at his lap self-consiously.  Fuck, fuck, he shouldn’t have accepted the ride.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay.  Don’t be ashamed of it.  I was just surprised.  Didn’t expect someone so pretty to be living in a place like this.”  Nick says sweetly, eyes boring into Harry’s.  
  
“What’s wrong with a place like this?” Harry replies defensively, when really, everything is wrong with a place like this.  Everything and nothing.  Nothing because Harry’s never known anything different.  
  
“Nothing.  Which one’s your house?”  
“That one.”  
“Alright, there you go, Harry.”  
“Thanks for the ride.”  
  
And with that, well.  
  
That’s that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s new hipster friends:
> 
> Jude - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdrmak3gME1rjs517o1_500.jpg  
> Iris - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdrpqgczSF1qmnaa3o1_500.jpg  
> Florence - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lku0cs6UIc1qiwzezo1_400.jpg  
> Elliot - http://media-cache-lt0.pinterest.com/upload/61150507411389289_o5ZreP0J_b.jpg  
> Holden - http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_me0nr1apFI1qfpjp1o1_500.jpg


	6. Chapter Six

Harry and Nick have formed a tentative friendship that consists of Nick flirting with Harry and Harry remaining oblivious to his advances, innocently believing that he has simply made a new friend who really likes to compliment people and make silly, sarcastic comments.  Nick, as well as some of his friends, come to the record shop at least once a week to buy records and fawn over Harry’s hair.  Louis doesn’t come everyday, but he comes to drive Harry home on the days that he finds the weather to be too brutal for Harry to walk.

This is one of those days.

Louis arrives at the record store at nine thirty, walking in casually and sitting up  on the counter.

“You know, I’m supposed to wipe down the counter.” Harry protests facetiously. Louis grins wildly, and begins rubbing his bum around on the countertop.

“Wipe it down with my ARSE!” Louis giggles, and yelps when Harry lifts him up and pulls him off the counter.  Harry, smirking, ruffles Louis’ hair and Louis responds by playfully hitting Harry on the nose.  Harry covers his nose with both hands and lets out a faux-whimper, attempting to fool the older boy into believing he has actually injured him.  He closes his eyes and takes a ragged breath.

“Harry, are you okay?” Louis asks in anguish.  He places a panicked hand on Harry’s shoulder, shaking gently.  Harry makes a small whining noise, looking at Louis with big eyes. Because his hand is covering his nose and mouth, Louis can’t see him smirking.

“Are you bleeding?  I’m so sorry.  I’m so so sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to hurt i swear.  Are there paper towels or anything?” Louis looks around frantically, and Harry removes his hands, laughing.  Louis turns to him, confused, and Harry sees understanding register in his eyes.

“You twat! You’re not even hurt, you absolute wanker!” Louis exclaims, but he can’t even be properly angry with Harry when he’s happy like this.  When his eyes are shining with elation, and his cheeks are dimpling sincerely.

—

It’s all very platonic, you see.  And when Harry says platonic, he is not saying that with a hint of sarcasm.

And he is not being sarcastic right now.  Or ironic.

He needs to make that clear.

It’s completely platonic.  Harry realized that Nick was flirting with him, and, quite kindly, might he add, Harry informed Nick that he was not interested.  Nick was not terribly upset, because it wasn’t as if he was in love with Harry.  Nick promptly stopped flirting, and now the friendship is completely platonic and uncomplicated, with nothing but friendly feelings towards the other person.

It’s all very simple and it’s not hurting anyone.

Nothing like Harry’s relationship with Louis.

No, Harry’s relationship with Louis is terrifying and it ignores boundaries and crosses lines and breaks all kinds of rules.  It’s scary and painful and intimate in the worst way, but it’s also courageous and exciting.  It’s trusting yet unsure, naive yet complicated, innocent yet contrived, living yet deadly.

Louis unknowingly hurts Harry, and Harry nevertheless returns to Louis.  Because Louis has literally become Harry’s addiction, the way his hair sweeps across his forehead, the way his blue eyes light up when he’s happy, his smile, his laugh…

It’s all so overwhelming and it’s too much but Harry’s in far too deep to get out now.  The emotional tie is too strong to cut off.

It’s all great, and Harry can handle it mostly, because the emotions are good ones.  This love feels nice, it bubbles up inside him and feels him with euphoria.  Yes, they’re quite nice feelings.  However, knowing they are not returned causes some… other feelings.  Love and heartbreak are completely separate entities.  Yes, they are related, but they’re entirely different.  The love will remain happy until it leaves (which sometimes happens, it’s something that one must accept in order to survive the overwhelming emotion), but it’s knowing that the love isn’t returned that’s the sad part.

It’s completely different than love, but it’s a negative side effect that occurs for some.  In Harry’s case, he’s suffering from this…. whatever it is.  It’s not entirely heartbreak, because how could it be?  Louis never really broke his heart, he simply does not return the feelings.  Which isn’t his fault.  But, this is like an illness.  It will hurt Harry until he forms an immunity and Louis’ feelings, or lack thereof, can no longer touch him.

Harry’s always had a bad immune system, though.  So what would normally be an innocent crush for most (And yes, Harry has accepted that it’s a crush, and that yes, he has a crush on a boy, and yes, it’s a bit scary but he can’t really deny it at this point) has escalated to a heart wrenching disease, slowly but surely killing him from the inside out.

Maybe he’s just a little bit dramatic.

But that doesn’t change that Harry wants to stab himself in the eyeball every time he sees Louis kiss Eleanor.

—

Harry and Madelyn are shopping on Friday, because that’s what good boyfriends do: they carry their girlfriends heavy shopping bags and allow themselves to be dragged around from shop to shop.  Madelyn sits down at the food court, claiming that shopping is exhausting and Harry has to bite back a remark that he’s the one carrying the bags.

“You and Louis get on really well, don’t you?” Madelyn asks casually, taking a stab at her salad, and fuck, when will this girl stop dieting?  More importantly, why does everybody have to bring up Louis around him?  It’s not that Harry doesn’t love talking about Louis, because he does, it’s just that sometimes he likes to get his mind off the fact that he has a completely creepy crush on his friend.

“Yeah” Harry confirms, and it’s a bit rude, because he’s snappish and spits the word out and since when is he rude to his girlfriend?  Since Louis, apparently.

Madelyn raises an eye brow but otherwise ignores the short response.

“That’s nice.  Eleanor’s really into him.  You know they’re in an official relationship now?  Like, girlfriend-boyfriend.  Isn’t that sweet?” Madelyn informs Harry, most likely meaning no harm, yet it hurts.

“No, I didn’t know.” Harry says, and now he’s being really rude, but he’s angry, and rightfully so.  Louis kept this piece of information away from him.  Louis really has no right to keep secrets from Harry, not when Harry’s kept nothing from him, not anymore.  Not when Louis has waltzed into Harry’s life and taken the last ounce of privacy and secrecy from it.  Suddenly, Louis was there, and then, bam, he was there.  Suddenly, Louis knew everything, and that set in motion the chain of events that ultimately led to Nick knowing everything (or not absolutely everything, but he knows about his crappy house and his crappy job and his crappy life, and that’s really all that matters), and then, soon enough, maybe everyone will know everything.  There’s only one thing Louis doesn’t know about Harry, and it’s Harry’s feelings for him.

“Oh, that’s strange.  I thought for sure he would’ve told you.  Aren’t you really close?  Liam says that you never hang out with him anymore because you’re always with Louis.” Madelyn babbles, and the way that this means nothing to her makes Harry want to stab her, like she’s stabbing her fucking dressing-less salad.  Why does she get to be so oblivious?  Why does she get to live in a world with no problems, with no money problems, no pining, no waiting, no hiding?  How come she gets to, but Harry doesn’t?  Harry deserves a life like Madelyn’s just as much as Madelyn does.

“Did he?  Is he upset about it?”  Harry asks, trying to keep his voice steady and even.

“A bit.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it, but you should hang out with him.  Besides, both Louis and I are going to be busy for a while.  We’ve been partnered in a science project, and neither of us are good in science… so that will probably leave you more time to hang out with Liam, yeah?” Madelyn suggests, blabbering slightly, not touching her salad, and it really pisses Harry off how much she watches her weight.  Madelyn’s been annoying since Louis happened.  Everyone’s been annoying, because when you have something so bright and amazing, everything else just seems dull by comparison.  That’s why things like Louis shouldn’t be allowed to exist, all they do is hurt hurt hurt and Harry doesn’t need anymore hurt.

“Yeah” Harry mumbles, even though it’s not true.  It just means that Louis will be too busy with Madelyn to pick Harry up from work and he’ll have to walk home in the cold.

Harry’s life is a shit show of fuckery at the moment.

—

Harry is at Louis’ house on Saturday night, which is not new.  Harry likes Louis’ house and he likes Louis’ mum and he likes Louis’ sisters and he likes Louis’ food.

He does not like, however, Louis’ new topic of conversation.  Eleanor.

This seems to be a recurring problem, Eleanor.  She manages to unknowing flounce about and ruin Harry’s life with a flick of her wrist.

They’re sitting on Louis’ couch at eleven - thirty, Louis’ sister safely tucked away in bed, innocent to the what the world will bring them - heartache and heartbreak, and hearts should really just go themselves, shouldn’t they?

“I was partnered with Madelyn for a science project, don’t know if she told you, but I mentioned it to Eleanor and she seemed a bit bothered.  Not full-on angry, just a bit irritated or something.  Do you know why that could be?” Louis asks, and honestly, helping Louis with Eleanor problems is the last thing Harry would like to be doing.  It hurts too much.

“Might be jealousy” Harry suggests, honestly clueless.  The way girls’ minds operate will forever be a mystery to him.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t cheat on her.  And she knows that, I think.  Do you think she doesn’t trust me?” Louis asks, wide-eyed, and isn’t that Harry’s look?  Isn’t it Harry’s thing to be vulnerable and sad and… no, he doesn’t like it on himself, but he hates it even more on Louis.

“I don’t think it’s that kind of thing, ” Harry begins, knowing the words he’s about to say are going to be very painful, but he pushes on to help Louis, “I think it’s like, she’s upset that she’s not going to be able to spend very much time with you because of it, and Madelyn will, you know what I mean?  She must be really into you.  That’s what Madelyn told me.  She said that she really likes you and that you two are a really cute couple.” 

Fuck, Harry might start crying.  He feels his voice crack at the end, and if Louis notices, well, he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh.  I guess that makes sense.” Louis says, snuggling deeper into the couch.  Harry can’t do this anymore, he just can’t.  He can’t contain himself and he flops over and leans into Louis’ arms, beginning to sob hysterically.

“Harry?  What’s wrong?  What’s happened?” Louis asks, concerned, and Harry really shouldn’t be doing this.  He shouldn’t be putting more on Louis’ plate, not when he has so much else to worry about.  He can’t say, hey,  I have a massive crush on you.  He’ll have to blame it on the stress or something.  He can’t let Louis take this - this one last secret he has.  Louis can’t know everything, every insecurity, ever negative in Harry… Louis knows all but one, and Harry’s  not about to give that one up.  He’s not quite in the mood for lying at the moment, either, so he just won’t say anything.

“Harry, please tell me what’s wrong, please, Harry, what’s wrong?  C’mon baby, tell me what happened, why are you sad?  Please don’t cry, love, please don’t cry.” Louis says into Harry’s shoulder, and Harry doesn’t know what to do, or know what to say, or if he’d even be able to say it because he can’t breath properly.

“Hazza, baby, please calm down and tell me what’s bothering you, please please please, I can’t - Haz, what’s going on?  How can I help?  How can I make it better?” Louis asks more questions, and Harry doesn’t how Louis could possible make it better without liking him back, so he just keeps crying.  And why does he have to call him “baby” like they’re something they’re not, because that makes it so much worse.

Eventually, Louis stops asking questions, and Harry stops sobbing but the tears continue, just in a more quiet way.  Louis rubs his back rhythmically, then transfers to his head, massaging his scalp in smooth circles, and then begins kissing his cheeks and nose and eyes to dry the tears and Harry has no idea what’s going on and it’s all too much so he starts sobbing again, but now it’s worse, more intense, and he’s practically screaming.

He can’t breath, he can’t think, he can’t see, he can’t hear, how does Louis expect him to calm down when he’s like this?  When the only sense he has left is touch, and all he can feel is Louis?

But then again, he’s never felt anything like Louis, and now that he has, Louis is all he feels anyway.  So this isn’t that different.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

It's three in the morning, and Harry and Louis are lying in bed together.  Louis carried Harry to bed while he was still crying and hyperventilating, stroking his hair almost mechanically until his wrist got sore and then he whispered little whims to him about how "every thing will be fine, I promise, I love you, I'll take care of you, I won't let anything bad happen to you" and somewhere in that, Harry's sobs turned to quiet whimpers and those turned into tiny breaths signaling that Harry had fallen asleep.  Louis never fell asleep, worrying endlessly about what could have triggered Harry - if it was something he said, or something earlier, or something building up.  But now, three hours later, Harry has awoken, and he finds himself enwrapped in Louis' comforting arms.  Louis' spooning Harry, and by the way Louis' fingers are tapping along Harry's forearm, Harry can tell he's awake.

"Louis?" Harry asks hesitantly, a bit uncomfortable in the intimate position when he knows it means nothing.  Another part of him dies when he realizes -  _He may be holding you like this, but it doesn't mean anything, and it never will._

"Yeah, Haz?" Louis asks gently, like he's terrified to say the wrong thing because if he does, it'll just be pushing Harry closer to the edge, teetering even more on the edge of sadness.

"Just wondering if you're awake." Harry replies quietly, and he desperately wants to grip Louis' hand, but he can't, because he's the little spoon and Louis is smaller than him.

"Well, I am."

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, and Louis almost laughs, because Harry's the one who's clearly  _not_ okay, yet he's still only concerned about Louis' well-being.  But Louis doesn't laugh, because Louis can't laugh, not when he's holding a horribly broken boy in his arms.

"I'm fine.  Wish I could say the same about you." Louis answers, and it comes out a bit mean, but he doesn't mean it to, and Harry knows that.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, taking a deep breath, and he digs his fingers into his thigh because he  _needs_ something to hold onto, something to grab, something steady that will always be there.  And his thigh - that's permanent.  His thigh will always be there, unless he gets into a tragic accident that causes it to need to be amputated, and with his luck, it's actually probable.  So Harry lets go of his thigh.  He can't rely on anything.

"You scare me sometimes." Louis says, and oh, god, Harry's scared him off, hasn't he?

"Why?" Harry asks slowly, carefully, not wanting to make the wrong move.

"Like last night," Louis begins, "When you couldn't calm down.  That was scary."

Harry takes a deep breath, because he honestly has no idea what it must've been like for Louis, having to watch Harry like, being forced to take care of someone like that.  He instantly feels guilty.

"What was it like?" Harry asks, monotone, afraid of the answer.

"I didn't - I didn't know how to help you.  And it was like. I don't know.  I know you get sad sometimes, but is it usually this bad?" Louis asks, overly concerned, too caring, and Harry knows, he  _knows_ that you shouldn't have to do this for your friend.

 

Harry's suddenly glad he's the small spoon, because he doesn't have to look at Louis so this conversation doesn't feel legitimate.  He can pretend that this conversation means nothing, and nothing that comes out of his mouth will matter later on.  But, still, he's cautious with his words.

 

"I'm not like - I'm not depressed, Louis.  Don't make this into something it's not, okay?"

 

"Well, I know you're not depressed, because like, you're happy a lot of the time.  And it's genuine happiness, it's not those stupid fake smiles people do when they're lying that they're okay.  And I love you when you're like that, but I know you have a tonne on your plate right now, and it must be awful, I know it's hard for you, and I don't know, I just. I just get worried about you sometimes.  You know what I mean?"

 

That's the last thing Harry wants. He doesn't want Louis to worry about him, to use his time worrying about a stupid boy who won't even matter in the long run.

 

"No." Harry answers simply, and it's halfway a lie, but it's also not.

"What?"

"I don't understand why you're worried about me." Harry clarifies, fiddling with his fingers, "Like, Liam doesn't worry about me like you do, and he's  _Liam._ You worry more than  _Liam,_ Lou."

"Well, have you - Last night.  What you had, I think it was a panic attack.  Or something like that.  Have you ever had one in front of him?"  Louis asks, and of course Harry hasn't, because he's never really had a problem like this before.

"No."

"So do you see where I'm coming from?" Louis asks, hopefully.

"No." Harry repeats, getting impatient with the conversation, "Go back to sleep.  Don't worry about me, I'm not worth it."

 

Harry knows he shouldn't have said it, he regrets it as soon as it's out of his mouth.  Because he cannot have Louis thinking that Harry thinks that he's worthless, he can't have Louis worrying more.

 

"Harry…" Louis drawls, slowly, full of concern, "Don't say things like that."

"Things like what?" Harry asks, playing dumb (because really, what else can he do?) "Go to sleep."

"That you're not worth-"

"Lou." Harry stops him, "I'm  _fine._ Now go to sleep."

Louis sighs, resigned, and Harry knows he's won, "Okay.  Love you."

Harry clenches his eyes shut, because things like that hurt too much to hear.  He doesn't want to hear that Louis loves him, because it just makes him think of what could be, but never will be, because he's Harry.  It's not even that he's a boy, it's that he's  _Harry._ He's a stupid, poor, angsty boy with low self esteem and who requires attention and work to ensure that he won't drown in his own misery.  It's pathetic, and Harry wonders why anyone sticks around.

"Don't say things like that." Harry whispers, pained.

"I don't understand you at all" Louis says, confused, obviously thinking that his previous words would help.  That they would help Harry feel better, and think himself worthy of happiness.

"Me neither." Harry agrees, "Go to sleep."

 

And Louis does.

 

\--

 

Harry has a terrible night's sleep, he tosses and turns and wakes up several times and sometimes Louis' awake and concerned and sometimes he's asleep and oblivious to Harry's anguish.  Sometimes when Harry wakes up, he cries, and sometimes the sniffles wake Louis, who never says anything, just will pull him closer.

 

He thinks the cuddling helps.  It doesn't.

 

When Harry and Louis wake up for real, it's about ten, and it's because Daisy and Phoebe come bounding into Louis' bedroom, jumping on the bed.  They're so gleeful and playful, that Harry smiles, a big real, happy smile, and Louis jumps on him, tackling and clawing gently.  Louis straddles him on the bed, pinning his arms over his head.  Harry is all smiles, until Louis laughs, and then the smile fades, and Louis has no idea what's wrong.

 

Whats wrong is that it's such an intimate position, Harry can imagine sitting that way with Louis, having Louis lean down and kiss his lips roughly, but then Louis laughed, and the moment was ruined because Harry remembers it means nothing.

 

Louis gets off him, and the twins continue whining  for breakfast, so they go downstairs to the kitchen, where Louis gives them both toast (that's the best he can do, okay?) and Harry puts the tea on.  Once Daisy and Phoebe are comfortable situated on the couch, watching television and munching on dry pieces of toast, Harry and Louis sit down at the breakfast bar.  They take slow sips of tea, tension palpable in the air.  Then Louis starts talking, all tentative and careful, and painfully polite, like they've just met and it  _hurts._

 

"Do you want something to eat?" Louis offers and Harry shakes his head - he's never eaten much anyway.

"Are you sure?  You should probably eat something." Louis expresses his concern.

"I'm sure."

Louis' hesitant but he doesn't say anything about it.

"What do you want to do today?" Louis asks, all patronizing and concerned like Harry's a three year old who just fell and scraped his knee or dropped his ice cream cone.  And it pisses Harry off, but he decides to take advantage of Louis' rare moments of compassion.

"There's this party tonight, I think Ed's throwing it.  Can we go there?"  Harry asks, and Louis bites his lip, thinking.  Louis isn't one to resist a party, but it's being thrown on a sunday night, and Ed is notorious for drinking a ton, and Louis isn't sure how he feels about Harry drinking his feelings away tonight.  He knows that Harry will regret the decision the next day when he's throwing up between classes.  But when Harry's looking at him like that, big eyed and pouted lips, how can Louis deny him anything?

"Sure, of course.  Whatever you want." Louis agrees.

 

\--

 

They arrive at the party when it's already in full force, everyone sufficiently drunk enough to loose all inhibitions but not drunk enough to pass out and vomit.  The music is loud - some people are dancing, but most are either in the kitchen playing drinking games, or on the couch, kissing and talking.

 

Harry immediately heads for the kitchen, where Ed and Niall are competing in a drinking game, and they're both heavy drinkers so everyone in the room knows that it won't end well.  Zayn's in there as well, and he promptly pulls Harry into a hug, tilting back and forth slightly, intoxicated.

"Hey" Zayn slurs, and holds out a beer, "Have a drink, yeah?  Let's get you  _wasted."_

Harry knows this won't end well.

He chugs the beer.

 

A few hours later, both Harry and Louis are completely and utterly shitfaced.  They go to the chouches and cuddle, giggling and talking about everything and nothing.

 

"Harry you're so pretty…." Louis slurs, and Harry smiles.  Louis is sitting on Harry's lap, running his fingers through Harry's thick curls.

Giggling, Harry leans his head forward onto Louis' neck "You're the prettiest."

Somehow, Louis turns on Harry's lap so their faces are directed towards each other.  They say sweet little whims until -

BAM.  Lips are are together, working, pressing against each other.  Eyes closed, all they can think of is each other.

 

And that's it.  Harry and Louis have kissed.


	8. Chapter Eight

Harry and Louis wake up on Louis' couch the next morning, both wildly hungover and feeling far too ill to be leaving for school. They both regret the previous night, one more than the other.

"Last night was fun, yeah?" Harry asks, unsure.  
"Don't remember much of it, to be honest." Louis says nonchalantly, slipping a book into his bag.  
"How much do you remember?"  
"I don't know. I just remember playing a drinking game. Nothing else from there."

Oh.

Harry and Louis kissed, and Louis doesn't remember it.

Harry makes a futile attempt to hide his heartbreak.

\--

 

Louis is busier now.

School and soccer has become more strenuous, as well as the university application process. Harry tries to support him in his dreams, but secretly, Harry dreads the idea of Louis going to some big city and leaving Harry behind. As much as Harry wants Louis to have a beautiful future with a good education and enough money to buy a pretty house and support a family-

He doesn't.

Louis is too busy for Harry now. Their time together is more sparse quieter, mostly spent doing homework. Sometimes Harry gets a bit sad, and Louis notices, of course he does, but Louis is so busy. He sends over a reassuring smile, or a squeeze of the knee, and Harry's kind of almost halfway okay.

He's not, by any stretch, okay.

But that's okay.

Louis no longer picks up Harry after work. Harry's walked home in the rain, in the cold, but never in the snow. Not before tonight.

It's not even proper snow, that's the thing. Real snow Harry can deal with. Soft, fluffy little snowflakes are perfectly fine, but this wet slush snow really isn't. It makes Harry's lips turn blue and his saturated clothing stick to his body.

Maybe Harry will die of hypothermia. He wonders if people will care.

Apparently so, because a car stops. It looks familiar, but Harry refuses to get his hopes up. The window opens and it's Louis.  
"Get in the car!" He calls through the wind and the snow. Harry rushes to the car and gets in, wet and freezing. He can feel Louis' eyes on him, and tries to control his shivers. Harry sits on his hands, trying to get some heat radiating into his frozen fingers. Louis reaches over and switches on the seat heaters.  
"Fuck, Harry, you should've called me." Louis spits, starting up the car.  
"It's not - Not you're j-job." Harry stutters out between tremors and shivers. Louis sighs, and Harry can't help but feel worried, "Are y-you mad at. at me?"  
"No! No, definitely not. I'm just mad at the situation right now. You shouldn't have to deal with the shit you do and I promise, after my science project is finished, I'll be able to help you out more, okay? You know Madelyn, she's always dead-set on getting an A, so she wants me to be working with her a lot."

Harry nods, looking straight ahead at the road in front of him.

"Are you alright?" Louis asks.  
"I'm fine. Just a bit cold. Can I sleep at your house tonight please? We haven't paid our heating bill so we got cut off." Harry requests timidly.  
"Sure, baby, you don't even have to ask." Louis responds, a pang of guilt hitting him as he realizes that Harry's heat has most likely been down for quite a while now and he's been sleeping in the cold. Louis thinks about asking about it, but he doesn't think he wants to know the answer.

He turns on the radio, and the two boys both sing along quietly, filled with melancholy.

Louis wonders what Harry's been through these last few weeks, because they haven't talked very much in private. There's only so many things Harry can tell Louis at the lunch table with all of his friends.

"You're amazing, you know." Louis says simply.  
"What?"  
"Your voice. It's incredible."  
"Oh."

Louis takes Harry's hand in his own, rubbing circles in his palm, hoping to comfort.

"Is everything okay?"  
"Everything's fine."

Louis can't think of anything else to say.

Nothing's fine. Nothing's fine and Louis fucking forgot that they kissed, which is better than him remembering and it completely ruining their friendship, but it's still pretty bad.

Harry had no idea he is that forgettable.

\--

On wednesday night, Harry goes to Liam's house, telling Louis he doesn't to stay the entire time, insisting that they'll get sick of him. Louis tells him he's welcome to stay, but Harry tells him he's been neglecting Liam lately anyway. Louis gives Harry a ride to Liam's house, and Harry walks in without knocking.

"Harry! It's been ages since I've seen you around here!" Liam's mother coos, running over and giving him a hug, "I thought you and Liam had a row?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, it's nothing like that. I've just been busy. I've just gotten a job so-"  
"Oh! Alright, that makes sense. I was worried. Are you here for dinner? I think I have enough…"  
"Yeah," Harry replies, smiling sheepishly, "If that's alright."  
Ruth nods, "Pasta alright?"  
"Yeah, pasta's great. Could I sleep here for a little bit? The heating's down in my house." Harry asks nervously. Staying with the Paynes' has never really been that big of an issue, but he's worried that maybe Ruth will think that he's betrayed Liam and is now just coming back because he needs something.

"Of course, love. But on friday night, you'll have to go home or stay with someone else. We're going to be out of town this weekend, visiting family. I'm sure Liam's told you" Ruth busies herself with cooking dinner. Liam probably has mentioned it, but Harry doesn't remember.

"Yeah, I think he did. Is he in his room now?" Harry questions, and Ruth nods affirmatively. Harry strolls over to Liam's room and tentatively knocks on the door. The answer is muffled, but Harry thinks he's allowed in. He opens the door, and Liam looks up at him with his puppy eyes and smiles.

"You know you don't have to knock" Liam cocks an eye brow, and Harry fiddles with his fingers nervously.  
"Yeah, well, I know but it's like, I haven't been hanging out very much with you recently - and like- I thought that you - that things might have changed?" Harry asks.

Liam furrows his eye brows incredulously "Because you've been busy, you thought I'd be mad at you."  
"Well, I thought that maybe I should knock, like if we weren't-"  
"Haz. We really need to work on your self confidence. This is getting a bit ridiculous, if I'm honest."

Harry looks down uncomfortably.

"So, I take it you're staying for dinner?"  
Harry nods.  
"Sleeping over?"  
Harry nods.  
"You'll have to leave on friday."  
"I know."  
"I haven't properly seen you in forever. So can you give me a hug please?"

Harry obliges, and plops down on Liam's bed, hugging the older boy. He breathes in Liam, he's missed this comfort. He's missed the strong hold of Liam's arms, the way he always knows what to say.

Liam's fucking great. Some people make Harry want to stab himself in the best way possible. Liam is not one of those people.

"I missed you a lot." Harry breathes, leaning his head forward onto Liam's shoulder. Liam hums in response, as if to say "I'm right here, I always have been." Harry squeezes him one more time, and then releases him.

"So, Fifa?" Liam offers, and Harry nods.

They play fifa, and laugh, and it's fun.

\--

The rest of the week passes without any important events. Harry goes back to his house on friday night, goes to sleep, and the next morning it's -

It's something he thought he'd never see again.

His father, sitting at the table, yelling at his mother.

His father, who left, and ruined them. His father, who now suddenly thinks he has the right to come back.

"Des?" Harry asks, because really, does he deserve to be called "dad"?

Des looks up, taking in Harry's appearance.  
"Hello, Harry. I was just talking with your mum about a few things."  
Harry hesitates "You left… Nine years ago. We haven't had any communication for almost nine years."

Des looks at him pointedly, "Exactly. And I'd like to change that. But your mother doesn't seem to want that."

Harry can remember his father slapping his mother once. He thinks it only happened once but.

But when you have a father that left and took everything you had, you can never really be sure what he would do.

Harry can't think of what to say, because what's the protocol for this situation? Great him with open arms? Certainly not. Don't talk to him? Harry's not sure if he can do that. He needs answers.

"Oh." Harry manages. Anne is sitting with a cup of tea in her hand, looking down at it like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Harry considers going back up to his room, or maybe just walking out the front door.

"I don't really think that your mother is doing a good job… providing for you, and I think-" Des starts, but honestly, Harry doesn't want to hear it.  
"Fuck you! Maybe if you didn't take all our money when you left, she'd be doing alright! Ever thought of that, Dad?" Harry's yelling now. He doesn't think he's ever hated someone so much.  
Des takes a breath, clenching his fists, and his mother still doesn't say anything.

"Harry, I really have missed you. And I think that maybe we could figure something out, so I could spend some time with you. Maybe get you out of this shit hole of a house."

And that's when Anne snaps. She stands up, and she's screaming. It escapes her mouth in a piercing screech, horrible yet deserved words of "You don't deserve a son!" and "This is your fault, you ruined us!"

Des snaps too, apparently, because he's around the table in a second, with his hands clasped around Anne's wrists. He's yelling back, and Anne is absolutely going mental at him, squirming and struggling in his grasp. That's when Des releases her wrists only to raise a hand and slap her, open handed.

Harry rushes forward and pushes his mother out of the way, and swings a punch at his father. Who's significantly bigger than him, might he add.

Perhaps this wasn't a good decision. Des gets harry into the same position as he had his mother, and pushes him back so he's against the wall.

"I was trying to help you, you ungrateful cunt." Des spits, and Harry whimpers in his grasp. Des throws a punch. It disorients Harry, but not enough for him to miss the pain in his nose. Harry tries to fight back, but he's not quick enough. Des punches again, this time in the eye, and next near the mouth. He can vaguely hear his mother screaming.

Harry sinks down to the ground, and Des kicks him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you an update this weekend, so here it is.  
> This chapter is a bit tragic, so sorry.

Harry’s incredibly fazed, his head lolling to one side.  Des isn't kicking him anymore, Harry doesn't know where he's gone. He feels a pair of soft hands pulling him to his feet and his mother talking to him.

 

"Go!  Go to Liam's please!"

 

Harry runs to Liam, and it's cold, and raining, and he realizes as soon as he gets to Liam's house and the door's locked, that Liam's not here.  He doesn't know where to go.

 

Louis.

 

Harry begins the walk to Louis' house.  It's a short drive, but a long walk.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck it all.  Fuck the rain, fuck his father, fuck his life, because who seriously has to go through this shit, besides Harry?  Harry tries to run, he really does, but he's sore all over, and he's dizzy, so he settles for a slow walk.

 

He fights off tears the entire two hour walk over, because Louis' house is actually pretty far when your limp-walking at a snail's pace  Finally, he arrives at the house.  He sees a familiar looking car exiting, but thinks nothing of it. He hesitantly knocks on the door.  Louis opens it up, and gasps at Harry's appearance.

"harry" He breathes.  Harry doesn't say anything, can't say anything.  His lips quiver, and Louis pulls him inside and sits him on the couch.

 

"Oh my god, what happened?" Louis asks.  Harry doesn't reply, just allows tears to spill over.  Louis pulls Harry's hair back, examining his face.

"Fuck, you're all bloody.  I'm gonna get my mum, she's a nurse." Louis stands up to go get her, and Harry shakes his head.

"No, please don't tell your mum!"  Harry says frantically, panicked.  Louis looks back at him, conflicted. He debates on his decision, he knows his mum can take care of Harry best, but Harry just wants Louis, and how can he deny Harry anything at this point?  So he scoops Harry up in his arms and carries him to his bedroom, laying him out on the bed.  He leans down and kisses Harry on the forehead, whispering sweet comforts.

"I'm gonna take off your shirt so I can see if you're hurt there, okay, babe?" It's not a question, so Harry doesn't answer.  Louis slowly removes Harry's shirt, sucking in a quick breath as he takes in the blood and blossoming bruises.

 

There are scuff marks on his shirt, Louis realizes, as he pulls it off.  Someone’s kicked him.

 

Louis thinks about how Harry showed up at his door, soaking wet from the rain, shivering.  He thinks about how there was no car in sight.  He hopes that Harry didn’t have to walk here like this.

 

"Did you walk all the way here?" Louis asks, and Harry nods.  Louis looks at him with a sympathetic, pained expression, "Oh, baby."

 

"I think we need to clean you up.  I'm gonna put you in the bath, so you don't have to stand.  I'll go fill it up, you take off your pants, alright?" Louis tells him, and Harry smirks at the request to take of his pants.  Louis rolls his eyes and goes to run him a bath.  Harry slowly removes his pajama pants, and when he finishes, Louis returns.  He takes his naked, battered body in his arms, carrying him to the bathroom which is thankfully connected to his bedroom.  Louis gently places Harry in the warm water, and Harry sighs in relief.

 

"You must be freezing…" Louis' voice trails off.  When Harry doesn't respond, Louis says "Can you say something please?  So I know you're okay?"

Harry nods, "Yeah, I'm just…. It was my dad.  He left when I was seven, but he came back, and he tried to hit my mum, so I just to fight him off and he just… started punching me.  And he got me on the ground and kicked me a couple times."

Louis hesitates, "Maybe we should take you to the hospital."

Harry shakes his head, " I don't think anything's broken."

 

Louis nods, not wanting to pressure Harry.  He puts some body wash in his hands and begins to wash the blood off of Harry's arms and chest.  Harry feels a bit uncomfortable, with Louis' hands on his naked body, but he knows there's nothing sexy about this situation.

 

The first time Louis has his hands on him, Harry's in pain and crying, and Louis is filled with guilt and sympathy and pity and this isn't how it's supposed to be.

 

After the bath is finished, Louis dries Harry off and helps him into warm clothes.  Then he carries him to the bed, and gets him ice packs for his bruises and antiseptics for the gashes.

 

"Does it hurt?" Louis asks, and Harry can't lie to him, so he nods.

 

Louis puts in a movie, and holds Harry in his arms.  They cuddle and watch the movie and Harry tries to ignore the pulsing in his right eye and the sharp pain in his ribcage.

 

"Who was leaving before I came?" Harry wonders.

"Madelyn.  We were.  Um.  We were working on the project." Louis responds, but his answer is shaky and it doesn't sound genuine.  Harry accepts it anyway.

 

"Could I spend the night here?" Harry pleads.

"I thought you were already planning on it, so, yeah." Louis allows, thankful that Harry asked.

 

As night approaches, Louis leaves Harry in bed to make him some dinner.  He comes up with soup, smiling.  He goes and sits right next to Harry and props Harry’s he’d up on a pillow.  Then he lifts the spoon to Harry’s lips, and Harry opens his mouth, letting Louis spoon feed him.

 

“Isn’t this a little bit melodramatic?” Harry smirks, trying to lighten the mood.  He can’t really bring himself to happiness, not when his mum might be being beaten by his father, not when Louis is treating him like he’s a child.  It’s embarrassing.  He’s cried in front of Louis like a baby, allowed Louis to clean him up, and it’s just-

Friends don’t do that for each other.

 

There’s no way Louis will want him now.

 

Harry still allows Louis to feed him spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup while Louis smiles at him, trying to convey comfort but instead pity comes across.

 

“You’re my baby, Hazza.  Honestly.” Louis says, and it’s supposed to be endearing, but Harry can only force smiles so much.  So Harry focuses on keeping his face passive, instead of allowing tears to brew in his eyes at the thought of the boy he’s in love with (is it love?) thinking he’s like his baby.

 

“No, don’t do that, don’t go all cold on me.  I’m trying to help you.  I’m just- You’re like my little brother.  I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.” Louis promises, and Harry’s stomach drops.

 

He’s like his little brother.

 

Not even just his brother, his _little_ brother.  He’s younger and inferior and needs to be taken care of.  He needs to be babysat and looked after and protected and it’s not what Harry wants.  He wants to take care of Louis but he _can’t,_ not when he’s his _little brother._

 

Harry tries to hold back the tears, but they spill over anyway.

 

“Oh oh baby, please don’t cry.  What did I say?” And Louis looks so _guilty_ like he’s done something wrong but he really hasn’t.  Harry would love to hate him, but he can’t, because Louis’ been nothing but amazing to him.  Now Harry’s upset because he’s made Louis upset and it’s just a mess, because he’s shaking and it hurts him, physically and emotionally.

 

“It’s just-“ Harry stutters, hiccuping and choking on his sobs, “I don’t want to be somebody’s- somebody’s little brother, you know?  You’re my friend, you’re not supposed to have to- to have to do this for me.”

 

Louis shakes his head, “No, I’m not supposed to have to do this for you, but these things aren’t supposed to happen to you, are they?  But they do, and since they do, I’m gonna protect you.”

 

Harry sobs, “I don’t want to _need_ to be protected! I just want to have a normal life where my dad doesn’t beat me up and our house isn’t going to be foreclosed and I don’t have to walk home at ten every night in the cold!”

 

Now Louis looks close to tears too, feeling horrible about Harry’s situation.  He’d do anything to change it, but he doesn’t know what he _can_ do, so he just deals with the aftermath of every tragic event of Harry’s life.

 

“I know.  I don’t want you to need to be protected either, but you do.  And honestly, I only trust myself.”

 

Harry closes his eyes, breathing deeply. He holds Louis’ hand, finding solace in it.

 

Soon enough, Louis climbs into bed beside Harry, holding him protectively.

 

“Harry, I have something to tell you.”  Louis says, and Harry nods in acknowledgment`, “When Madelyn was here, I hooked up with her.  We just kissed, that’s it.  And I know you’ll hate me for it, but I just, don’t leave, okay?  It’s late, and I don’t want you walking around right now.”

 

Oh.

 

No, Harry doesn’t hate Louis for it.  He wants to punch him, but at this point, he’s so tired.

 

“It’s okay.”  Harry settles for, and promptly falls asleep.

 

Louis worries about how Harry allows people to push him around.


	10. Chapter Ten

Harry awakens the following morning in Louis' arms of treason.  He feels numb all over from the ice packs.  His head hurts and his bruises are sore.  He can feel Louis' fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp.  Louis is everywhere.  Louis is everything.

 

It's not fair, it's not healthy.

 

"You're awake" Louis muses.  Harry refuses to respond.  He won't give Louis that, he doesn't deserve a response.  It's time for Harry to show some strength.

 

"I'll be right back, poppet."  Louis wiggles out from under Harry and saunters out of the room, leaving Harry in a bed that feels far too large, overwhelming whiteness of the sheets.  He feels alone.

 

Louis comes in within minutes, skipping and holding tea and toast.

 

"You're gonna eat all of this, and then we'll watch movies." Louis informs him.  Harry sits up, ready to protest.

 

"No." Harry says firmly.

 

"No?" Louis asks, confused.

 

"I'm leaving. You're an ass hole.  You hooked up with my girlfriend.  Fuck you." Harry says, but it doesn't sound genuine.  It sounds forced and awful.

 

"Um." Louis doesn't know how to act.  Harry's never said no before, "At least eat.  Please.  And let me drive you."

"I can walk-"

"No, you can't.  I'm driving you." Louis demands, and Harry obliges, after a couple minutes of Louis' insisting.  Despite his anger at Louis, he really does need a ride.

 

So Harry walks to the car, with Louis' arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him even though he can walk, he really can.

 

"Where do you wanna go?" Louis asks.

"Zayn's house." Harry says.  The car ride is short, and Louis doesn't turn the radio on. Neither of them talk, tension palpable in the air.  Once they pull up in Zayn's driveway, Louis makes an attempt to apologize, but Harry shushes him and exits the car quickly.

 

Louis sits for a second, then begins to drive home.

 

Harry rings Zayn's doorbell multiple times until Zayn opens, rubbing his eyes.

Without really looking at Harry, he says "What the fuck man it's early-" Then he really looks at Harry, "Fuck.  What happened to you?  Get inside."

 

He pulls him, almost violently, into his enormous house.  Zayn sits him down on the couch and tries to force him to talk.

 

"What the fuck happened to your face?"

Harry says nothing.

"Harry.  You're seriously hurt.  tell me what happened."

Harry says nothing.

"Are you scared they'll hurt you again?"

Harry says nothing.

"I'll beat the shit out of them"

Harry says nothing.

 

Zayn tries a different approach.  He leans forward and grabs Harry's hand, rubbing soothing circles into it.

"I'm here, you know.  If you ever need to talk." Zayn says, and Harry nods.

"I'm.  uh. Madelyn and Louis hooked up." Harry admits.

"Hooked up as in…?"

"They just made out but.  Still."

Zayn looks at Harry sympathetically.  There's a bit of animosity in his eyes, but Harry can tell it's not directed at him.  Zayn's weird.  He's protective and he loves his friends, but you don't realize it until you get to a situation like this.

 

"I think you should go to Madelyn's house right now, and break up with her. And Louis can go fuck himself.  You deserve better friends than him."  Zayn says, and Harry nods, because Zayn's wise.  Zayn's smart and he knows what he's doing and Harry knows he should listen to rationality and logic, because he hasn't been lately and look where that's got him.

 

"Thank you" Harry says weakly, and Zayn pulls him into a gentle hug.

"Are you okay to walk to Madelyn's house?  It's just down the street." Zayn asks, worried.

"I'm fine."

 

Harry then gets up and begins the walk to Madelyn's.  His heart's pounding - he's about to break up with his girlfriend of a year and a half.  She's sweet, and perfect, and she's steady.  She's been great, really, and even though she probably deserves it, Harry doesn't want to hurt her by breaking up with her.  But, thinking about it, ending the relationship might be for the best.  It ran it's course, and both of them went into this knowing it's not forever.  Harry was getting a bit irritated with her anyway.

 

He knocks on her door, and she answers, sleepy eyed.

"Harry! Hi, babe!" She says and then looks him up and down, "What happened?"

Harry shakes his head, "That's not important."

Madelyn furrows her eye brows, "Yes it does.  Of course it does.  You're all beat up!"

"That's not what I came here to talk about.  I know you and Louis hooked up." Harry accuses.

"How-"

"He told me."

"I'm sorry!  I'm sorry, it was stupid, and I hadn't seen you in a while, and I was stressing out from the project and he was just kind of _there_ and we kissed and I'm _so_ sorry." Madelyn explains, freaking out.

Harry looks at her, "I think… I think we should end things.  You know?"

Madelyn looks up at him teary-eyed, "I'm sorry.  I just- please."

"I think… I think the end of this was coming.  I've just… We haven't been working.  We weren't exciting anymore.  It was boring."

Madelyn looks scandalized, "You're breaking up with me because you're _bored?"_

"I just think this ran it's course." Harry justifies.

Madelyn nods, her lips set in a tight line, "If that's what you think. Um.  Can you- Can you leave please? I just need to be alone right now."

Harry nods, and he leaves her alone, because that's the polite thing to do.  He hopes he hasn't hurt her too much.  He knows she'll move on, find someone new.  Madelyn's a pretty girl with a sweet personality and a decent sense of humor, she looks innocent when she's anything but, so yeah, she'll find someone new.

 

Harry walks back to Zayn's house, and Zayn doesn't ask questions, which is lovely.  He allows Harry to stay at his house, assuming whatever happened to Harry happened at home.  Harry watches television with his head on Zayn's lap, and then they play video games, and then they bake cookies, and then they read and watch videos on youtube.  Anything to distract them both from the situation that, even in the fun they're having, weighs heavy on their shoulders.  Zayn lets Harry sleep in his bed, which he doesn't normally do for anyone, because Zayn's never been comfortable with human contact.  It's really, really nice to have someone hold him close after what Louis did.  Because just because Louis' gone, doesn't mean that everyone else is.

 

Zayn clears his throat and then begins to speak, "You never talk about it, but I know you must be going through a lot.  And it must be pretty fucking bad, for you to be uncomfortable talking about it to people.  And I know that you feel like you're alone sometimes, that nobody cares about you, but I just want you to know that you're not.  That you have a lot of people who love you.  I'm always gonna be here, no matter what.  Whatever you're going through, you don't have to go through it alone."

 

Harry nods, and for once, he actually believes that things might get better.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Harry wakes up on monday morning to Zayn's hand on his shoulder, gently shaking.  He sees soft, caring eyes looking down at him, and the hand on his shoulder feels tender and loving.  Harry begins to sit up, but Zayn shakes his head, signaling him to lie back down.  Harry obliges, a bit confused.

 

"I want you to stay home today, okay?" Zayn tells him, and Harry _would_ protest, but the thing is, he doesn't want to go to school either.  He closes his eyes and prepares to drift back into unconsciousness, but Zayn interrupts him.

 

"Wait.  Just um.  Call me if you need anything, okay?  Seriously, if you need _anything,_ no matter how stupid, just call me." Zayn demands, and Harry nods, eyes still closed with sleepiness.  Zayn wants to let the younger boy sleep, but he needs to continue, "My mum knows you're here.  She knows you've been beat up, but she won't ask any questions about it.  When you wake up, just go downstairs and ask one of the maids to make you breakfast."

 

Zayn's very rich.  He lives in an expensive house with multiple floors.  His bedroom is luxurious, complete with a king sized bed, polished, wooden flooring, and a iMac desktop sitting on a desk.  Zayn's family has several people who work for them, cooking and cleaning.

 

"Okay" Harry mumbles.  Zayn leans down to press a tender kiss to Harry's forehead, a strange motherly instinct kicking in, that's almost more powerful than his usual protectiveness.  Harry smiles, obviously thankful for Zayn's affection.  Already dressed, and the kiss serving as an unspoken goodbye, Zayn swings his back pack over his shoulder and walks out the door to get to school.

 

\--

 

Everything's gone to shit, Zayn observes.  And it's far too early in the morning to even have the energy to be this angry, so how the hell does Eleanor manage it?  It's not that Zayn thinks Eleanor's being irrational with her anger, it's just that Zayn thinks that the time they have to be awake is irrational.  Being somewhere, prepared to absorb information at eight AM is a bit ridiculous, but having the ability to be this angry at eight AM?  It's almost unbelievable.

 

But it happens.  Of course it does, and if Zayn was in Eleanor's position, he would probably find the energy, too.  Zayn sees Louis talking to the brunette, her face contort into something less than pleasant.  Eleanor promptly marches over to Madelyn and begins screaming.  Zayn would stop her, but he _knows_ Eleanor, he knows how she handles heartbreak.  She screams and kicks and punches.  Eleanor uses anger as a coping mechanism.  It may not be the most cordial way to go about it, but if that's what she needs to do to come to terms with this, Zayn's in no position to stop her.  If this is what she needs to do to be happy and move on, then so be it.

 

Eleanor's lucky, in that way.  She's found an outlet, something that makes her okay when she's not.  She's found a way to cope.  Eleanor has figured it out, how to move on.  Some are not so fortunate, and Zayn can think of one.

 

Liam and Niall walk up to Zayn, matching worried looks on their faces.

Liam leans in and whispers to Zayn, "Is Harry okay?"

 

Zayn shakes his head, because no, he's not.  He wonders if he's ever been.

 

\--

 

Zayn takes Niall and Liam home with him to see Harry, because they asked, and because he's not sure if he's handling this situation correctly.  They walk into Zayn's house, all laughs and smiles, and Zayn's in the middle of a goodnatured yet insulting sentence when he walks into his bedroom and sees Harry sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead of him, eyes unfocused.  The three boys fall silent.

"Hey, Harry" Zayn says, his voice softening dramatically, "I brought Liam and Niall"

Harry snaps out of his faze, looking at the threesome with a smile.  He doesn't say anything though.  Liam and Niall both look shocked at Harry's appearance, ugly bruises painted across his skin.  They're both smart enough not to say anything, but that doesn't stop Liam from turning into a doting mother hen on Harry.  He walks up to him and tentatively hugs him, then pulls his hair back on his forehead, examining the bruises.

 

Niall sits next to Harry on the bed, rubbing his back gently.  Zayn doesn't realize that Harry hasn't shown any emotion since he get here until Harry's hugging Liam, clinging to him, crying into his shirt.  Liam just squeezes him closer, comforting.  Niall rubs Harry's back, and Zayn stands back and awkwardly surveys the situation.  He hasn't made Harry talk yet, and he isn't sure if he should.

 

Instead, Zayn just goes on youtube, and looks for songs by the kooks.  If there's one thing Zayn knows about Harry, it's that his hipster music makes him feel better.  He clicks on "Ooh La" because the title sounds up-beat and the least love related.  Harry hears the music and lifts his head of from Liam's shoulder, looking at Zayn.

 

"The kooks" Zayn supplies.

"I know." Harry says, and _of course_ he knows.  Harry smiles then, and Zayn doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful and relieving because Harry deserves nothing less than happiness.  The lyrics of the song are a bit relevant to the situation ("She was such a good girl, the world just chewed her up and spat her out" basically describes Harry's life) but the song cheers Harry up nonetheless.  Niall, ever the jokester, stands up and begins dancing like the skinny white girl he was in a past life.  Zayn joins in, followed by Liam.  Harry sits watching, hesitant, so Zayn takes the initiative to grab Harry's hands and pull him up to dance.

 

And that's what they do.  They dance, laughing, and yeah, Zayn still has no idea what's going on in Harry's life, and Harry has purple bruises on his face, but at least he's smiling.


	12. Chapter Twelve

After the song ends, all four boys are exhausting from their ridiculous dancing.  Harry plopped down on the bed, huffing and laughing.  He lies back on the bed, and Niall goes and pets his hair soothingly.  Niall leans down and whispers something in his ear, and if Zayn's lip reading skills are anything to go by (they're not), he's saying "I love you."

 

Either that or "I fucked a dolphin."

 

It's a bit difficult to tell.

 

Zayn needs to talk to Niall and Liam.  He needs to know if he's handling this correctly, needs to be told what to do, needs to explain.  So he suggests that Harry takes a shower in order to get him out of the room.  Harry obliges, padding over to the bathroom and soft socks.  As soon as the door's been closed, Zayn sets his gaze on Niall and Liam, and they look back at him, knowing what is to come.

 

"So." Niall says.

"So." Zayn agrees.

"You gonna tell us what happened to him?" Liam asks.

Zayn nods, "I don't know how he got hurt.  Louis brought him over here on sunday, and he was horrible.  He told me that he stayed the night with Louis on saturday, after getting beat up.  And that Louis told him what he did with Madelyn, so Harry left.  I think - I think whatever happened to him happened at home.  Because he doesn't want to go back there."

 

Niall looks stricken, heart-broken, because Niall's sweet and caring and innocent and he lives in a world where bad things don't happen to good people.  Niall's lovely and naive but maybe he's not really anymore, now that he's seen the mess that is Harry's life.  He looks horrified.

 

"Maybe it was his dad?" Niall offers, his voice squeaky and small.  He's wide-eyed and playing with his shirt nervously.

 

Liam shakes his head, "His dad left when he was seven."

 

Niall looks like he might start crying.  He's never been good at accepting other people's suffering.

 

"I didn't know that" Zayn says.

"He doesn't really tell people," Liam replies, "It's only me and Louis who know."

 

All Zayn can think is, _oh, there goes my heart,_ because Harry trusted Louis enough to tell him the most private, intimate details of his life, that he's too ashamed to tell anyone else.  He trusted Louis, and Louis stomped all over that.

 

Niall sits down, hands shaking, and he says, deadpan, "I hate Louis."

Liam nods, "Me too."

"Yeah" Zayn agrees.

"Why is this stuff happening to Harry?" Niall asks quietly, sad, "It's not fair. He doesn't deserve it."

zany shakes his head, "I don't know.  Am I.  Am I handling this well?"

"Yeah," Liam smiles sadly, "You're doing a good job.  Thanks for looking after him."

Zayn shrugs, "I'm just doing what any decent friend would do.  He needs me, so I'm here.  I don't know if I should try to force whatever happened out of him, though."

"Maybe try to encourage him to tell you, but don't make him.  If he's not ready, then forcing him to talk will make it worse." Liam suggests.  Zayn nods, accepting this.  He's about to say something else when Harry emerges from the bathroom, and towel tied around his narrow hips, pale bruises literring his light skin.  Niall looks like he wants to wrap him up and bake him cookies and protect him from the world.

 

Harry moves robotically to Zayn's dresser, putting on his clothing without asking permission.  Zayn doesn't mind.

 

"Hi babe" Zayn says, and Harry looks back him, a forced smile on his face.  Zayn should have known that the happiness would be short-lived.  Harry pulls on clothing and goes and sits on Zayn's lap, and Zayn wraps his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Alright?" He asks.

"Alright."

 

After a couple minted, Liam and Niall excuse themselves, claiming they both have to be home for dinner.  Zayn decides that this is a good time to eat dinner, and Harry admits that he hasn't eaten anything all day.  Zayn refrains from giving him a disapproving look.  Harry tells Zayn that he'd prefer to eat in his room, if that's okay, and of course it's okay, it has to be okay, because you can't say no to a boy with a broken heart, broken trust, and a broken home.

 

So Zayn brings up the meal that the cook made.  It's chicken parmesan, and Harry loves it.  He eats every bite and plants a sloppy kiss on Zayn's cheek after he finishes, thanking him for being "Absolutely perfect" and for putting up with him.  Zayn just wraps his arm around Harry's shoulder, fondly squeezing.

 

"Harry?" Zayn says, after half of an episode of Doctor Who that they've both already seen.

"Yes?"

"Can we. Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Harry shakes his head.

"I'd really like to know.  I want to help."

"No.  I can't. I'm not. I'm not ready."

Zayn nods, understanding, "Okay, I get it.  When you're ready, I'll be here."

 

Zayn hopes that harry gets the message that he _will_ be talking about this.

 

\--

 

Zayn's at his locker the following day, getting his books, when Louis pops up next to him.

"Hey" He says, but Zayn doesn't say anything.  This doesn't deter Louis, though.

"Is Harry alright?"

Zayn's bad at denying people things.  He repeats his mantra: _he doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know._

"He's staying at your house, right?"

_He doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know._

"Zayn?  Is he upset with me?"

_He doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know, he doesn't deserve to know._

"Zayn!  Please!"

And Louis looks truly distressed, and Zayn can feel is resolve slipping.  He keeps his mouth shut, _he doesn't deserve to know._

"Just tell me if Harry's okay, alright?" Louis asks, exasperated.

Zayn takes a deep breath, "No.  He's not okay, but you know what?  His well-being really isn't your concern.  You showed that when you hooked up with his girlfriend."

 

Zayn can't say more than that, he walks away.  He can hear Louis walking after him, so Zayn breaks into a run.  He can't tell Louis more than this, he shouldn't.  Seeing Louis would make him want to tell even more and he _can't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated :) Also I have a dance show coming up in a few weeks, so I'll be super busy. I'll try to keep up with writing, but if I'm a little bit slower than usual, that's why. I'd rather have my chapters take a little longer to finish than be lower quality.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a filler and very short.  
> But this is what happens when I'm pressured to write very quickly at night when I CANT WRITE AT NIGHT I CAN ONLY WRITE IN DAY LIGHT

It's the third day of school that Harry's missed.

 

His physical health - the fading bruises that decorate his body and face - is not the only explanation for Harry's skipping out on his responsibilities.  His mental health is what everyone (and by everyone, he means Zayn) is concerned about, and with good reason.  Harry lazes around Zayn's house, rarely tearing himself out of bed and only leaving the room when he's absolutely forced.  He's numb and sad and Zayn knows that Harry's always been fragile, always been the kind of person who could easily slip into desolation, but he wonders what truly broke him.  It's frustrating that he won't talk.

 

But the thing is - how can Harry talk about it when he's not even sure what's going on himself?  He cries a lot, mostly when Zayn isn't home, because his life is a train wreck.  He has yet to hear from his mother, who may be dead for all he knows.  Harry has no idea what is happening with his family, so that's reason enough for his distress.  Not only that, but both his girlfriend and best friend betrayed him.

 

Harry reaches a new low when he stumbles upon the terrifying realization that he's mourning the loss of a friend more than his girlfriend.

 

Which is really fucking scary, because he should really be crying over the fact that his girlfriend cheated on him, not the fact that a boy who he only met a couple of months prior broke his trust.  That's an entirely different level of fucked up.  Harry curls up on Zayn's mattress, allowing sobs to shake his chest.

 

Harry cries.

He cries for his girlfriend's mistakes.

He cries for his father's betrayal, which he should have moved on from years ago but he didn't.

He cries for his mother's safety and health.

He cries for his best friend's foolish attempt to try to fix him.

He cries for his new friend's treason and poor decisions.

He cries for his childhood friend, who has always been there for him.

He cries for his naive friend's loss of innocence.

 

And finally, he cries for himself.

 

That's how Zayn finds him, eyes red and checks flushed, and Zayn can't do anything except _sigh,_ and Harry thinks that one sigh - that one _loud fucking breath_ \- breaks him even more.  Because now Zayn is disappointed in him, and that's not something he can deal with.  People have never been disappointed in him.  He's had every other emotion bestowed upon him - hatred, cruelty - but never disappointment.  Harry does everything he can to avoid that.  He gets perfect grades, helps his mother with money and housework, he wins almost every game for his football team.

 

So Harry tries to fix it.  He sits up and wipes his tears and smiles at Zayn, but the smile's painful and stiff.  Zayn just shakes his head, resigned, and sighs again.  Harry might cry again.  Zayn sits down next to Harry and holds him.

 

"Why can't you tell me what happened?" Zayn asks quietly.

"I'm sorry" Harry whispers.

"I just want to help.  But I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong."

Harry shakes his head.

"Liam told me that your dad left when you were seven.  And that you had to get a job because your house might be foreclosed." Zayn whispers.

Harry stiffens.

"Why do you keep secrets, Harry?"

"Feeling bad for myself doesn't seem as stupid when I can say that nobody knows the truth."

 

Zayn understands.  He holds Harry for a little bit longer, but then he lets go, because there's only so much he can take care of the boy.

 

"I think it's time for you to go home" Zayn says.

Harry nods, "I think so too.  I want to see my mum."

 

Zayn stands up and brings Harry to the car, and once they're both buckled in and moving, the secrets spill over.

"It was my dad." Harry says.

Zayn looks at him, confused.

"Eyes on the road, please" Harry reminds gently, and Zayn directs his gaze on the street in front of him.  Harry continues, "My dad hit me.  He came back and he said that he wanted to.  To spend time with me but like - I didn't understand, because he left _nine years ago._ And my mum said no, and my dad got kind of violent.  And I kind of remember when I was little, I saw my dad his my mum once.  I think it was only once but.  And then I tried to defend my mum, but he grabbed me, and he said I was ungrateful and shit.  He hit me and then my mum got him off me and told me to go to Liam's house but Liam was away for the weekend so I went to Louis' house and then Louis took care of me and then he told me that he and Madelyn kissed."

 

Oh.  _Oh._

Zayn reached across and put hand over Harry's.

 

They pulled over into Harry's driveway and wondered how bad things would get before they got better.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long! Been really busy.

When Harry walks into his house after days of not being there, his mother buries him in her arms.  He breaths her in.  Even though he has never been close with his mom, he still missed her and has been incredibly worried.

"I was so worried" Anne says, "Where did you stay?"

"I stayed with Zayn," Harry supplies, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"He left.  After you ran, he yelled at me for a bit, but there was no reason for him to be here after you left.  So I told him to get out and that I'd call the cops if he ever came back so.  We won't have to be worrying about him." Anne explains.

Harry furrows his eye brow, a bit hurt, "Why didn't you call me?"

"You forgot your cell phone, love.  I looked at Liam's house, but the door was locked, so I knew you couldn't be there.  I had no way of knowing where you could have gone.  I don't know any of your friends, you never introduce me." Anne tells him, and Harry nods, understanding. There’s an ounce of dejection in her voice, “I know Madelyn but-"

"Madelyn and I broke up a couple days ago.  She cheated on me." Harry cuts her off, not wanting to talk about his ex girlfriend.

"Oh.  I'm sorry, hun.  There are other girls, though." Anne says sympathetically.

 

Anne doesn’t want another girl.  Madelyn isn’t even what he’s most upset over, it’s Louis.  And she thinks it’s Madelyn, which hurts.

 

It's strange, that Anne is suddenly acting maternal.  She’s acting like a proper mother instead of the absent one she’s been his whole life. It makes Harry feel uncomfortable, but he understands it.  She feels like she's been a bad mother (which she has) and feels guilty for letting Harry get hurt.  She wants to make up for it.  She feels like she’s taken him for granted and is _finally_ appreciating her son.

 

Harry excuses himself to his bedroom, on account that it's late at night and he really should get some sleep.  He takes a shower and tucks himself into bed.  It feels nice to be back in his own bed, in his own house, alone and independent, but soon enough finds himself crying and shaking. Harry started thinking about _what if my dad came back what if everyone hates me why does louis betray me like this why do I love louis why do I love louis and madelyn at the same time why why why what if what if what if._ He calls Liam, who agrees to come to his house (less agreeing and more forcing himself, but still).  Liam climbs into his bed, and wraps his arms around Harry.

 

"I'm scared" Harry admits.  He knows that Liam thinks he’s just of his father returning, but that’s not what it is.  He’s scared of his own thoughts right now, scared of his heart, scared of his ex girlfriend and his friends.

"I know, that's okay" Liam replies, "I"m gonna protect you."

Harry's painfully aware that at the end of this year, Louis will leave, and then next year, Liam, Zayn and Niall.  And Harry will be alone.  Because everybody who promises to be there always leaves him.

But today is not the end of this year, or the end of next year, today is now.  And right now, Harry is in Liam's arms, and right now, Harry is protected.

 

\--

 

The following morning, Harry sees Louis in his maths class.  Louis has the nerve to sit next to him, and Harry just grips his pencil tighter.

Louis leans over and whispers to him, "Harry"

Harry shakes his head, "I don't want to get in trouble for talking."

"I need to talk to you." Louis whispers.

"I've been out for three days.  I need to pay attention.  Shut up."

 

Louis doesn't speak for the rest of class.

 

The silence doesn't last long.  As soon as they're out of class, Louis approaches Harry again.

"I know you hate me now.  But I wanted to say I'm sorry." Louis tells him.

Harry shakes his head, "I don't hate you.  I just thought we were friends."

"We _are_ friends." Louis contradicts.

"Friends don't kiss each other's girlfriends." Harry says, and then, pleased with himself, struts away.

 

Burn.

 

\--

 

Zayn, Liam, and Niall are protective, to say the least.  They wrap their arms around Harry's waist and bring him to a different table at lunch, where everyone who was not at fault in the Harry-Louis-Madelyn-Eleanor scandal is sitting.  Meaning Zayn, Liam, Niall, Perrie, Eleanor, and Danielle.  They sit Harry down and all the girls give Harry these sympathetic smiles, Danielle gives him a hug, bless her.  Liam gets Harry's lunch for him and makes sure he eats all of him.

 

They're all taking very good care of him, even the girls, who weren’t at Zayn’s house.  They must have been told about how he’s been doing.  Girls understand that stuff, they’re very in touch with their emotions.  While many boys would call him a pussy or a fag if they were to find out about his little emotional break down, the girls just offer sweet smiles, kisses on the cheek, and hugs.

 

Harry sees Louis sitting with the rest of the football team, and Madelyn sitting at a table full of girls he's vaguely familiar with.  He looks away before he'll have to make eye contact with either of them.

"You okay?" Niall asks, wide-eyed.  Harry's ruined Niall's innocence.

"Great" Harry smiles, tight-lipped.

 

—

 

Eleanor talks to Harry during their study hall.  Or, she passes him a note.  He knows Eleanor, and he knows that Eleanor knows how to handle her emotions.  When a subject will make her too emotional to talk about, she says it in writing.  So she passes him her spiral notebook with a small message on it.

 

_Are you okay?_

 

Sometimes, Harry forgets that Eleanor is a victim in this situation.  He takes that into consideration before writing his reply.  He can’t complain too much, because Eleanor will not give him sympathy when she is going through the exact same thing.

 

 _I’m alright,_ Harry scratches down, _It’s just a lot, you know?  I’ve been dating Madelyn for almost two years now.  And then she just kissed Louis.  I wasn’t expecting it._

 

He passes the note across the table to her.  He watches her eyes move back and forth on the paper, scanning over the letters.  He watches her write and then she passes it back.

 

_Yeah.  I never thought Louis would do something like that, to me or you.  He’s so sweet, and he’s really protective of you.  Never thought he would do that.  And I’m_ _SO_ _pissed at Madelyn.  She’s supposed to be my best friend.  Why were you out of school?_

 

Harry writes his reply.

_Did you hear about my dad?_

 

Eleanor looks confused as she reads his note, and replies: _No.  What happened?_

 

Harry’s relieved that the boys haven’t told her about his situation.  He almost smiles about how considerate they are.  However big of a gossip Eleanor is, he trusts her.

 

_Well.  He left when I was little and then he came back.  And he kind of beat the shit out of me.  That’s why I was out of school.  I was hurt._

 

He hears Eleanor take in a little gasp, and she doesn’t reply.  Instead, she just squeezes Harry’s hand and gives him a hug as soon as class is over.

 

\--

 

Harry’s mildly miserable.  But that’s pretty much alright.  He goes to football practice and the coach asks him why he’s been out and Harry says he’s been sick.  The coach almost accuses him of lying, but all the boys vouch for him.

 

Harry works hard and plays well, he needs a distraction from his mess of a life.

 

After practice, he and Liam walk home and Harry does his homework and eats dinner at Liam’s house.

 

“Have you two started studying for your midterms yet?” Liam’s mother asks over dinner, and shit, mid terms are the week after next.  Harry completely forgot about them.  He hasn’t realized how quickly time has passed.  But the weather is colder, it’s snowing, and it is December.  Harry has just been unaware of it, too caught up in his pining for Louis.

“I’ve done a bit” Liam says, and of course he has, he’s _Liam._

“I haven’t started yet, I’ve been kind of busy lately.” Harry admits.

“Yes, I heard about your dad.  And Madelyn.  Your mother told me about that.  I’m sorry about that, it must be so hard.” Ruth says sympathetically, taking a bite of pasta.  Harry’s getting a bit sick of sympathy, but it _does_ help, so he accepts it.  It’s better than the hard eyes of his father.

“Yeah. It’s been. Um. Rough.  But my friends have helped me out so, hopefully things will get better from here.”

Ruth smiles, and Liam says, “They definitely will.  Don’t worry, Haz, me and Niall and Zayn got you.”

Harry looks at him gratefully, and Ruth strikes up another topic of conversation, “So how is football going?”

“Great!” Liam perks up, “If we win the next few games, we’re going to the state championships.”

Ruth looks at them, bright-eyed, “That’s fantastic!”

Liam nudges Harry gently, “Haz is gonna bring us to victory.  He’s our best player.”

 

Harry looks down and blushes.  The boys are working on his self-esteem.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Harry fills his time with studying and football. He doesn't let himself think, because his thoughts scare him, and the last thing he needs is to be scared on top of everything. Harry goes to school, gets better grades than ever. He goes to football practice and puts his all into it, getting good recognition from his coach.Harry goes to Liam's house everyday after school, desperately trying to fill the void that Louis' left.

"Have you studied for the english final yet?" Liam asks.  
"No, haven't gotten to it. What about you?" Harry replies, writing the answer to his last maths problem.  
"A bit. I'm done with all my homework. Do you wanna study for that now?" Liam offers.  
Harry smiles, "Yeah."

Liam and Harry type out a study guide. Every time Liam sees Harry fading, drifting into his head, he brings him back with a squeeze of the hand or a playful tug on his hair. They type out a study guide on Liam's family's computer. The keys stick and the computer's slow, but that's alright. Liam prints out two copies, but before they can begin studying, Liam's mother calls them for dinner. The saunter over to the kitchen, and Harry thanks Ms. Payne profusely.

"It's fine, Harry." She brushes him off.

He goes home to sleep and to make sure his mother hasn't died.

This is his daily routine.

\--

It's the last game of the season. The game that decides if they can go to the championship. They're tied. There are fifteen seconds left on the clock.

Harry's at midfield, juggling the ball between his feet. He sees Louis, who's near the goal. There's an open space between him and the boy who betrayed him. Harry runs around a bit to ensure that the boys are around him, not Louis. Then he passes the ball to Louis, who shoots the ball into the goal just as the buzzer goes off. Harry practically made the goal for Louis, but Louis' getting the recognition.

Harry doesn't jump on his teammates like the other boys are. Harry watches as they celebrate. Zayn pulls him over into a side hug, his mouth brushing against Harry's ear.  
"Y'alright, babe?" He asks.  
Harry smiles and kisses him on the cheek.  
"I'm great" Harry lies.

He's lying a lot, these days.

\--

Exams go well. How could they not? Harry's been spending all of his free time studying. But now that school is out for two and a half weeks, Harry's not sure what to do with his life. He goes to Liam's house every morning, and Zayn will pick both of them, as well as Niall, up and bring them some place fun. Then they'll all stay at somebody's house. Harry's never alone. It's nice.

\--

School starts up again, and Harry's miserable. Louis doesn't look to happy either. They make awkward eye contact across hallways and classrooms. Louis looks like he wants to say something to Harry, but he never does. Not once.

Harry just wants his best friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was so short and such a filler, I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Harry probably would forgive Louis, is the thing, but Louis isn't apologizing. Sure, he did once, but after Harry continued to ignore him, Louis no longer made the effort. And Harry understands, he does, that if someone's ignoring or avoiding you, you won't want to talk to them, but Louis should still make some effort. If Harry meant anything to Louis, then surely he would have come forward to try to speak to him by now.

Harry already has forgiven Louis. He just wants him back. But his crippling social awkwardness and lack of confidence keeps him from approaching Louis first.

Thus, awkward eye-contact ensues.

It ensues everywhere. During math class is the worst, because they've already picked their seats for the year, so they're stuck sitting next to each other. In fact, there's no eye contact in maths. It's desperately looking everywhere but the opposite boy. Hallways are bad, because it’s so clear that both boys want to step forward and reach out to one another, but don’t know how. Lunch would probably be terrible, if not for their friends keeping them distracted.

—

Harry goes to Niall’s house after school one day in the middle of January. The work in their classes hasn’t become too rigorous just yet, as it is early in the semester. They would go outside to do something outside(not that Harry is a great-outdoors-man, it’s Niall, really) but there’s a storm so they settle for sitting on the couch and playing video games. They sit next to each other, shouting enthusiastically, trying to get their players to win. This continues until a particularly they see a particularly bright flash of lightning and hear a particularly loud clap of thunder and the lights go out and the TV screen turns off.

“Power’s out.” Niall announces.  
“Hadn’t noticed.” Harry deadpans.  
Niall elbows him, “Fuck off.” Harry rolls his eyes.  
“I guess you’re staying the night,” Niall says, “Because there’s no way you’re walking home in this weather.”  
Harry laughs, “Who are you, my mum?”  
“No, I’m your BFF. Let’s have girl-talk, since there’s nothing better to do.” Niall says, repositioning himself on the couch so he’s lying on his stomach with his head propped up in his hands. He looks like a proper girl.  
“Girl talk?” Harry cocks an eye-brow.  
“You know,” Niall supplies, “Like, emotional stuff.”

Fuck, Harry knows where this is going. It doesn’t necessarily have to lead there, but most things that are “emotional” do. Harry mentally prepares himself, trying to create the script in his head of what the conversation might be like, so he doesn’t have to go into this completely honest. Harry tries to figure out how to work his sentences so he can withhold certain information.

Okay, he’s being overdramatic. Harry calms down and reminds himself that this conversation doesn’t need to go in this direction-  
“So what about everything that’s going on with you and Louis?” Niall asks.  
Apparently it does.  
“Um. Well. We’re not talking.”  
Niall guffaws, “Yeah, I got that. Tell me more.”  
“Well, I’d probably forgive him if he apologized.” Harry says quietly.  
“Woah, woah, woah,” Niall says incredulously, sitting up frantically, “He’s never even tried apologizing?”  
“No, he has, but only once. He apologized, and I was like ‘fuck off’ and he just never made an effort to talk to me again. Like, ever. And it’s been over a month.”  
“Hmm.” Niall says, contemplative, Interesting. Interesting, indeed.”  
“Are you going to give me advice or are you just going to sit there stroking your chin?” Harry asks.  
“I was planning on just stroking my chin. I didn’t know girl-talk entails advice.” Niall looks up at him.  
“Does it?” Harry ponders.  
“Shouldn’t you know?”  
“Shouldn’t you know? You’re the one who brought up girl talk in the first place.”  
“That’s correct, but you’re a bit feminine, so I thought you’d know more about the subject than me.”

Harry’s jaw drops in awe, “I’m offended Niall. I’m going home.”  
“In this rain?” Niall asks.  
“Yes, in this rain!” Harry stands up dramatically, “In this rain and cold and I will get frostbite and hypothermia and DIE and it will be all your fault and you’ll have to deal with the guilt your entire life! I hope you’re happy, Niall Horan, because you’re going to jail for involuntary manslaughter.”   
Niall pulls Harry back down to a sitting position, “Sorry. The last thing I would want is to go to jail. How would I torture you from there?”  
Harry rolls his eyes, “Are we continuing girl talk?”  
“Yes. Yes we are. Here’s my advice. You are currently suffering from a broken heart. You have been betrayed by your girlfriend and your close friend. The only way to fix it is to get yourself back on the market.” Niall says.  
“I’m pretty sure there are plenty of other ways to fix a broken heart.” Harry points out.  
“There probably are,” Niall agrees, “But I refuse to hear about them. We’re doing this my way. When was the last time you’ve been to a party?”  
Harry shrugs, “Been a while. Couple months, probably.”  
“Alright. Next weekend, we are hosting a fucking party, with loads of fit birds, and you are getting some action.”  
Harry smiles, “Fine.”

Girls are exactly what Harry needs.  
Girls.  
Girls.  
Girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and unedited. Sorry.  
> Hopefully you atleast enjoyed Harry and Niall's banter?


	17. Chapter 17

♡ I'm putting this on haitus indefinitely, due to:

1\. Writer's block

2\. Lack of motivation/inspiration

3\. Schoolwork

4\. Boredom with the story

5\. Excitement towards other stories

Thank you for being understanding. ♡


End file.
